


Love Built A Garden

by aaalice



Series: love builds a garden [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Bisexual Disaster Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blue Paladin Lance (Voltron), Confessions, Denial of Feelings, Flower Tattoo, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Getting Together, Hanahaki Disease, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Klance - Relationship - Freeform, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Love Confessions, M/M, No particular season, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, POV Third Person Limited, Pining Lance (Voltron), Red Paladin Keith (Voltron), Romantic Soulmates, Rose Tattoo, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, a lot of inner monologuing whoops, before the lion switch tho, canon is a beach and i’m building a fucking sand castle, is that a tag?, it was betad but just by me a bunch of times, klance, original characters but they’re not actually in the story i just needed names, vld, we love and respect aroace enby pidge in this household
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaalice/pseuds/aaalice
Summary: soulmate-but-not-really-soulmate au: when you’re in love, flower tattoos appear on your skin, representing a specific person. in this specific au, they appear only before a confession is made, and grow the longer the confession is put off.Lance has been in love plenty of times before. He could probably challenge the record of the most types of flowers. But now, in space, he only bears roses.-If he had to face those stupid, beautiful eyes again, that stupid voice that always asked the questions that made Lance want to let the truth overflow, he'd do just that. If he had to pretend for one second longer that he wasn't so deeply in love he could bubble over with the feeling, he'd break down. He couldn't go on any longer.-FULLY REVISED!
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: love builds a garden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699996
Comments: 97
Kudos: 676
Collections: Just some pretty nice fics, favorites





	1. once upon a time, they say

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [wish that i could take you to the stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032461) by [rosedvst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosedvst/pseuds/rosedvst). 



> title from [this](https://youtu.be/fJFz83_93ks) elton john song, i recommend listening to it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *REVISED 10/14/20

"They're so pretty," Veronica sighed, eyes tracing over the sweeping strokes of orange that had begun to blossom on Lance's forearm. After she'd finished up her homework, she'd plopped herself beside him on the big grey couch in the middle of their living room while he attempted to finish his homework.

"You think?" Lance propped his right arm under his chin, staring down at his left.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you were gonna get pretty ones either. Most of my friends just have the little ones.” She traced the star shape that the petals formed. "Those are lilies, right?"

"Tiger lilies." 

“Same difference.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “And what do you mean you didn’t think I was gonna get pretty ones?”

“You have bad taste. Just in general.”

Well then. 

“Ex _cuse_ me?”

“I’m not wrong,” she shrugged.

"Shut up.”

He turned his gaze back to the petals, staring at them longingly. 

“I do so have good taste,” he muttered. “She’s really smart. She skipped a grade and she wants to take summer school so she can graduate early.”

Veronica looked at him quizzically. “…congrats? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know, but you’re wrong,” he said, crossing his arms.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, girls love when boys have a need for moral superiority.” 

She got up from the couch, no longer interested. She paused in the door way and cleared her throat. “If she has summer school, she’s not gonna be able to hang out with you _during the summer_. You know that, right?” 

“Don’t you think I thought about that?” he retorted.

As soon as she left the room, he put his head in his hands. 

“I did _not_ think about that.”

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

The small bout of tiger lilies faded after a few weeks of schoolboy crushing and a lot of inquisitive peers. The summer after seventh grade aided their disappearance, planting Lance far away from the object of his affection. 

So, it wasn't meant to be.

The disappointment didn't last long, but neither did the stretch of emptiness on his arm. Lance sported a variety of bouquets throughout the entirety of 8th grade and the summer after.

Pink lotuses grew for Francesco Castrejón, the red headed point guard on the boys' basketball team, who had broken Lance's heart and his nose on accident during a particularly high-strung game in early September. (There was a possibility that it had happened because Lance was paying more attention to Francesco and his harvest of freckles than he was to the basketball, and as a result it had hit him square in the face, but nonetheless.) 

Daisies grew for Eloise Newell, a short, hazel-eyed girl who always doodled on all of her assignments. He'd praised her artistic talents for weeks, and she'd give him sticky note comics or little caricatures when he was having a particularly bad day, an unbroken record of always being able to make him smile. He'd become enamored so quickly with her bubbly personality and unending optimism.

Chrysanthemums grew for Ollie Spuhler, who Lance spent the last two months of the school year with at the beach, teaching him to surf. It had taken a while for him to get the hang of it, but Lance certainly didn't mind the extra time. He'd received a shark tooth necklace for his troubles (and since his birthday was coming up), identical to the one Ollie kept around his own neck. No one else had ever been so curious about Lance's passions before, much less wanted to experience them for themselves, and that was what had really hooked him.

Violets grew for Alexandra Plada, who caught his eye during his summer job as a lifeguard. She'd cracked him up with clever slights at the instructors during their training seminars together, and had drawn delicate henna on his hands and forearms during the particularly slow afternoons at the public pool. She wasn’t particularly optimistic, nor did she often match Lance’s sunny moods, but she cared about what he had to say, and he loved to listen to her.

The flowers faded just like the lilies had, pinks and yellows and golds and purples melting away and leaving his arms blank.

Francesco may have been a great basketball player, but negated each and every one of Lance's attempts at friendship and left him feeling unwanted and unseen.

Eloise was the sweetest person that Lance had ever met, excluding Hunk, but crushed every daisy's petal on Valentine's Day when she gushed to Lance about the orchids that were decorating her arms ever since the transfer student had arrived.

Ollie and Lance shared common ground on the precipice of surfing and the ocean, but the guy was a dick to Veronica when he'd been invited over to the McClains' for lunch before surfing, and that was an immediate no. The chrysanthemums withered overnight and were gone the next morning.

Alexandra was only in town for the summer months, and a mere few days after they'd completed their hours as lifeguards, she flew back to Miami before he could so much as ask her out. The violets faded hand in hand with the henna she'd etched around them, and, slowly but surely, he got over her.

His arms were now a blank canvas, ready for his first day at the Garrison. Not that it mattered anymore, they all wore the long sleeved orange uniforms that covered up their flower-bearing forearms.

He'd known that he was bound to fall in love more frequently. Hell, he'd thought that pretty much everyone he'd met so far (that shared his age, of course) was pretty damn attractive, but that might have just been the bi in him.

Of course he was going to have a floristry's worth of flowers in his lifetime, he was honestly just surprised that he hadn't had more. He was used to them ebbing and flowing like the ocean tide, never expected them to stay long. He was young, he didn't have to worry about a big confession and devoting his life to someone, even if the idea made his heart beat faster.

Case in point, his understanding was that they were temporary. The love, the feeling. It was real, but temporary. Distance and time were usually their undoing, a lack of contact leading to a lack of love. That was just the way things went.

And that was always true.

It was true until the roses began to take root.


	2. a smile that spoke to me (in oh so many ways)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, or, as I call it, Let’s See How Many Words for ‘Red’ Aaalice Can Use.
> 
> in this, we continue the delve into the start of it all, so enjoy the tour through Lance’s pining. please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *REVISED 1/9/21
> 
> side note why did none of you tell me how horrible my spacing was before this gjfkhkgjhd

What else was Lance to expect? Of _course_ Keith was different. Of _course_ he contradicted every shred of fact that Lance had once thought so secure.

It had started just like the others, little red flowerettes and a few green leaves with tiny gold veins, taking root in the stretch of skin between his elbow and wrist. Easy and simple and routine.

_Don't get attached. This won't last._

The roses progressed as the fabricated rivalry did, slow and steady, growing into half-dollar sized blossoms in just over two weeks.

While Lance envied Keith's natural combat prowess and piloting expertise, wishing he had just _half_ of the skill, he couldn't deny how impressive all of Keith's dangerous feats were. His pining was unfortunately moved to the sidelines so studying could take its place in his earnest journey to becoming a fighter pilot.

Every time Keith's score got higher on the simulator, every time his eyes glinted when he smirked before for a dangerous dive, every time his stupidly pretty face was softly lit in the low glow of the control panel when the simulation would power up, every time he gripped the spacecraft's controls with steady hands, every time he strolled out of the simulator, not caring that he continued to beat the highest score with every trial, Lance could feel the roses digging into his skin. 

And lo and behold, he’d wake up to a brand new scarlet blossom that’d been born overnight. 

_Don't get attached. This won't last._

And god, they were pretty. Of course he’d loved the way the violets, daisies, and lotuses looked, but shades of red against his skin, carmine swatches and wine colored shadows, just looked _right._

He almost wished it wasn’t just a crush, that Keith wasn’t just his quick-working infatuation’s newest victim. Why else would the universe give him the most divine flower, the one best known for romance? They were perhaps the second most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and it wouldn't take a genius to guess the first.

It was unfair, really, how effortlessly perfect at everything Keith seemed to be. Short-tempered or not, the fact of the matter was that he was a highly skilled pilot, the ever-favorite object of Lance's heart, and the boy who'd branded Lance with crimson roses.

And then Keith dropped out.

Well, probably dropped out. Maybe he was expelled? Lance wasn't exactly sure what he'd done or where he'd gone, just that he was no longer a student at the Garrison, and nobody of higher rank would give him an answer as to why. 

While that subtraction had gained Lance the fighter class position, and he wouldn't let his curiosity get in the way of that, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Keith. The kid was probably the best pilot the Garrison had seen since Takashi Shirogane, there was no way he could have failed out. 

Besides, in Lance’s world, the roses weren't ceasing in their growth, weren't waning like the tiger lilies and lotuses and daisies and chrysanthemums and violets had, which meant that Lance was still fervently head over heels.

Great. Just great.   
  
_Nope. No you—No, no, no. No, you don't. I'm saving Shiro."_

_"Who are you?”_  
  
It was a delicate kind of pain, not being recognized.  
  
"Hey, I've literally been in love with you for years and I've got the most romantic flower plastered all over my skin to prove it."  
"Who are you, again?"  
  
Now that, that hurt like a knife to the ribs, but Lance would curse Commander Iverson out to high heaven for the entirety of his evaluation before he'd admit something like that.  
  
_Uh, the name’s Lance?”_  
  
The confused look on Keith's face was enough to break his spirits entirely. The roses throbbed on his skin, he could feel them under his sleeves. He stomached the oncoming agony and focused on saving his (currently unconscious) hero instead, at least before Keith could get the credit for it.

The stupid, _stupid_ roses could wait.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

He'd finally found a place on the castleship. Sure, maybe he wasn't the leader or the right-hand man or the 10,000 year old space princess that could pilot the mountainous hunk of metal, but he was a team member. A real paladin, the designated pilot of the Blue Lion, the team sharpshooter, and they couldn't form Voltron without him. That was plenty of belonging to tide him over.

He couldn't tell whether he could deal with the roses more or less now. In the past few months, when he didn't know where Keith was, or even if he was okay, it was torture, knowing that he couldn't be in any contact with the person he'd fallen in love with. Having to face the taunting red petals, always reminding him of what he didn't have. Knowing that it couldn’t be a schoolboy crush, wishing that it was. Wanting so badly for the roses to fade and stop torturing him.

And now Keith was here, in the castle, around him all the time. He was a bit sated; at least, the little part of him that missed Keith all those months was. He still ached to be more than he was to Keith. Friends even, not just teammates trying to beat each other at every turn.

He'd won a few battles, small ones, but still. They'd worked together successfully on a couple of missions, and Lance was doing his damnedest to instigate a little less. Although, it was only fair to him and his envy alike that they get into a debate every now and then. Lance wanted (and deserved) his fair compensation; sometimes it was just cruel how attractive Keith was.

Like...that damn smile.

Keith was generally a serious guy. Maybe he wasn't the head of Voltron, didn't have to bear the burden of leading like Shiro did, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a skilled, tactful paladin. He took the orders that were given to him with trust in his superiors, whether that be Shiro in battle or the Alteans around the castle.

Case in point, he didn't seem like the type to kick back after a particularly difficult battle and watch stand-up or sit around the table with the rest of the tuckered out paladins and play a round of cards. Not that they could do any of those things, but nonetheless. 

And, while that was understandable for someone who'd only really known survival for most of his life, the dude never really relaxed. He rarely let himself focus on the positives of their missions, mind never leaving the fact that they could always be improving.

One of the few opportunities that Lance had to catch his elusive smile was over video comms in battle. If anyone else was watching, they wouldn't have caught it, wouldn’t be paying nearly enough attention, but Lance did.

Keith would have his resting stoic expression on during battles for about 99% of the time, generally speaking. But every once in a while, when he'd get to use Red's jawblade, when he absolutely decimated twenty-odd Galra cruisers in one fell swoop of his heat ray, when he got to slice and dice his way through a fleet with the gigantic sword Red held as Voltron's right arm, when he got that adrenaline-heavy look in his eyes that meant that he was proud of what he'd done.

That's when Lance could see it. It was accompanied by confident indigo eyes and the occasional twist of the red bayard in Red’s receptor: Keith's smile. It was only ever underscored by the sounds of scraping metal, exploding ships, roaring blasters, and intergalactic warfare, but if that was what it took, Lance would fight a hundred more wars.

And the thicket grew.

And the roses blossomed.

They thrived on his relentless pining, drank in the glances he stole, soaked up every grin, every ounce of wide-eyed appreciation for the artful red paladin. Seeing him training or fighting or arguing or negotiating or piloting or, damn it, existing only fueled the flowers' fervent hunger to claim more and more of Lance's skin.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

"Hey, Lance?" Hunk asked, turning the heat up on the dinner he was attempting from an old remembered recipe. Lance had so generously offered to help, even though he wasn't exactly sure what it was Hunk was making, or how to use any of the Altean kitchen technology.

"Mmh?" Lance responded, standing precariously on the counter to grab something on a very high shelf.

"Whatever happened to the roses?"

Lance froze for a moment, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat. He cautiously took down the little flour-pouch-looking package that Hunk had asked him to retrieve, pupils gone wide.

"I know Keith left and all that," Hunk continued, "but how long did it take for them to start disappearing?”

Of course Lance had told his best friend that he'd fallen for the famous scowling dropout boy as soon as the roses began to grow. He would always rush to his best friend with the news whenever a new type of flower appeared on his arm. That wasn't the problem here. What he'd failed to inform Hunk was that the roses...hadn’t exactly stopped.

"Yeah...about that." 

He got down off the counter and handed the package to Hunk, who eyed it approvingly, then turned his attention back to Lance, raising his eyebrows.

In that tone that meant _I know you're hiding something_ , Hunk asked, "Lance?"

“Uh, I might have forgotten to do the whole Stop Being In Love With Your Rival thing." Lance replied sheepishly.

"Let me see 'em," Hunk ordered, and Lance reluctantly shed his jacket and pushed up his sleeve, baring his right arm.

“ _Dude_.”

"Shut up."

"You wanna talk?" Hunk asked genuinely, cleaning off a spoon-like utensil with the corner of the towel he kept over his shoulder.

"About how much I hate this? Sure.” If Lance was being a bit whiny, Hunk didn't care to notice.

"I was just thinking, since you refuse to tell _him_ , you could at least vent to _someone_ about your crush, but sure, that too," Hunk proposed, slinging the cloth back over his shoulder.

Lance didn’t even bother to think the offer over. "Yeah, alright."

He pulled himself up to a sitting position on the counter, laying back against the tall backsplash below the shelves with a weighted sigh.

"This is completely unfair," he groaned. "He's so good at everything. He's literally training 90% of the time, and our rooms are right down the hall, so it's not like I can avoid it. And he's a good paladin, too. You saw how he saved my ass in that last battle, came swooping in with Red like a…”

He blanked. “…like a I don’t even _know_ what, man.”

"I'm not seeing the problem here," Hunk said quizzically.

"The problem is that he's Keith! And he isn't...he doesn't like me. Not even in the friend way. And yeah, it might be a little bit my fault but also it's just not fair."

Hunk opened his mouth to respond, but Lance cut him off. "And no, I'm not going to tell him and just see how he takes it. I know what you’re going to say."

"Well," Hunk rerouted, "why don't you just try to be his friend first?"

"He thinks I'm stupid,” he groaned. “I can barely be his teammate."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that,” Hunk assured. “All you need is time.”

"Stop being so reasonable. It makes it so much harder to argue with you.”

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Roses appeared on his other arm, too. They'd already staked claim of his right, up to the broadest part of his shoulder and down to the base of his wrist, a stray leaf settled right above his pisiform. Upon waking up, he'd discovered a brand new green sprout at the center of his left forearm.

At least, he consoled himself, his jacket had long sleeves. As long as he could keep them from growing up his neck, he’d be fine, and that couldn’t be too difficult. 

All he had to do was distract himself from Keith, put in a little distance, get his mind off of his stupid feelings for a while.

Fall out of love.

Yeah, he could do that.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.....what did we think?
> 
> leave a comment or some kudos or both if you please, i would appreciate it a lot!!


	3. we’d rest when we worked hard (sunshine across the yard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this au has now consumed my life. i know i said i’d post this within the next week but i got attached and here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *REVISED 1/9/21

Wrong. 

Very wrong. 

Very, very, _very_ wrong.

More wrong than Lance had previously thought possible, which was really saying something. 

Look, Lance knew he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed; Pidge took that prize by a landslide. However, he should have at the very least least seen his inability to mute his romantic feelings coming from a galaxy away.

Try as he might, he couldn't exactly stop Keith from being attractive. He figured trying to distance himself from his teammate would make him seem standoffish or unwilling to bond with his fellow paladins, and he knew that avoiding Keith would probably just warrant an interrogation about why. If not from the man himself, then from Shiro. 

So here he was, alone with his roses, his feelings, and his confusion. He really should have seen it coming.

Lance wasn't so sure of the roses' beauty anymore. They seemed untouchable, still, but now in a crueler light, like someone had taken off the rose-colored (haha) filter. They used to grow, now they infested. They overtook whatever unmarked skin surrounded them, always reminding him, taunting him. 

_Look at what you don't have. Look at what you haven't said. Look at who you can't bring yourself to confess to._

Well, not to worry, everything would be fine. He just needed a plan to stop himself from thinking about Keith, and a doable one at that. 

Maybe…maybe he shouldn’t be doing this because Keith was already in love. Had his own flowers. 

Now that might work…

He could think about that. Sure! Keith had flowers all over his arms, hyacinths or tulips or plumerias or lilacs, something pretty and meant for someone else. 

A myriad of blossoms that meant that there was someone down on earth, someone that made his heart beat faster, the person he wanted to win this war for so he could return home and spend the rest of his life with them. The one that could make his shoulders relax for once, bring the tension out of his set jaw, ease his battle-ready reflexes, paint a little sparkle in his pretty violet eyes...

No, no getting distracted, Lance reminded himself. Keith had flowers for someone on Earth, simple as that. He just always had on that dumb red leather jacket, so Lance just never got the opportunity to see them. 

_"Huh? What the heck do you think you're doing?"_

em>"Allura said there's a pool. I'm gonna go check it out. What do you think you're doing?"

_"Same thing."_

Oh, but of course, something had to get into the way of his perfectly good excuse as to why he shouldn't love Keith. Looks like the universe really couldn't give him anything he wanted.

Lo and behold, Keith's arms were barren.

That's right.

Towel on his head, scowl on his face, absolutely zero flowers on his arms. No hyacinths, no tulips, no plumerias, no lilacs. No one down on Earth he was waiting for. The barest goddamn forearms Lance had seen since his own before sixth grade, or Pidge's at all times, really. 

While everyone's first inkling of flowers began on the arms, then traveled throughout, clinging to anticipated confessions like ivy on brick, Keith's seemed to be absent of any vibrant flower that could have complemented his pale complexion. 

Well, fuck.

And it didn't even have to be as bad as it was, but no, Keith was also now subject to the _botanical garden_ that was plastered across the length of one and a half of Lance's arms. Keith had been so kind as to not comment on it, but there was no mistaking the curiosity in his gaze as he surveyed the rose-covered skin. 

Lance was used to the staring by now, it was barely something he even noticed anymore. He'd had flowers on his arms since before he could remember, and tons of them, at that, so it was only natural that people gazed a little longer at the gorgeous blossoms. They weren't something Lance showed off, exactly, but he'd never been ashamed. 

What with all the time he spent at the beach, and the hot climate in Cuba, it was only natural that his arms would be exposed often. It was almost his trademark, the loverboy who couldn't get through the summer without a new blossom blanketing his arm.

So, he didn’t notice it anymore, not when it was coming from strangers. Back in the elevator, however, Keith had taken his time examining the host of deep red petals and bright green vines, a contemplative look on his face. Lance _definitely_ noticed this time; and as analytically-minded Keith was, there was no way his mind wasn't spiraling in new directions, forming innumerable conclusions.

_"Look, you stay on one side of the pool and I'll stay on the other, and we'll be far, far away from each other. Very far away."_

While that was fair, as both of them were just looking to relax after a positively brutal day and Keith most likely didn't want to be the target of Lance's talkative nature, he couldn't deny that it had hurt a little to hear.

Another thing that was unfair (Lance could write a list longer than the 95 Theses of what was unfair about the whole situation at this point), was the fact that Exhausted Keith and Exhausted Lance now had to use nothing but their own strength and trust in their teammate/rival to get them up a brightly lit elevator shaft that went farther up than either of them could see. Not to mention that they were shoving their way up to a destination that they didn't know how to look for. 

With Lance, there was also the issue of being pressed up against the very subject of the roses' desire, and having to bear both of their weights while feeling the roses phantom-pierce his skin and rev his nervous system up.

And even after that fateful day, it just kept going, as much as Lance prayed to every deity he could remember to end his unjust suffering.

_Look at what you don't have._

Keith would transform his bayard mid-stroke into the sharp katar he wielded so well, extend his Marmoran dagger into the single-edged luxite sword that he swung so skillfully, rough and tough his way to the highest training level sequence until Shiro forced him to come to dinner or go to bed, and the roses clung.

_Look at what you haven't said._

Keith would plant himself before the rest of the team and stoically stare down reluctant leaders, defend his teammates when a negotiator showed any sign of doubt, turn the tables and show that he was learning to back down from his tirades if another paladin gave him a warning glance, and the roses flourished.

_Look at who you can't bring yourself to confess to._

Keith would partake in simple dinner conversations, offer to complete little tasks around the castle to ease the weight off of their collective shoulders, give even the tiniest of half-smiles at one of Lance's particularly clever jokes (even if he'd deny it later), and the roses _devoured_.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

"Hunk, I can't do this," Lance lamented, reclining dramatically on the unlit dashboard of the Yellow Lion. "I cannot do this. I really don't understand what I did to deserve this. Which space god have I offended? Which day on Earth did I forget to pray on?"

"Lance, I'm sure you didn't offend any space gods," Hunk reassured from the pilot's seat. 

The team had just come back from a quick supply mission and a run-in with some allies, Lance having dragged himself up to Yellow as soon as they had docked the lions and he had had a chance to change back into his casual clothes.

"I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me." Lance, who had been happily focused on the now-dark information screens as he sprawled across the control panel, now stared Hunk straight in the eyes. "Do you think this is because I missed Christmas mass when I was seven because I fractured my spine?"

Anyone else would have rolled their eyes or looked at Lance like he was off his rocker, but not Hunk.

"I really don't think so," Hunk decided. "Why would a deity wait so long to get their revenge? It's been a few years since then, and I'm sure your punishment would have been soon after if a fractured spine was any kind of offense."

"See, this is what I was talking about the other day," Lance glared. "It's so much harder to prove my point when you keep opposing me with facts. You have to let me win at least some of the time." 

Hunk shook his head with a smile, although Lance was now focused on a loose thread clinging to the cuffs of his jacket. 

"Right then. God is very mad at you for being a competent sibling and saving your sister while you two were surfing so she didn't end up getting hurt. That's completely what happened," Hunk said sarcastically, and Lance gave in to the ridiculous smile tugging at his lips.

"I guess you're right, that is kind of stupid," he admitted.

Hunk furrowed his brow. "Hey, I didn't say it was stupid. I'm just saying it isn't your fault. There's nothing you did to cause this." 

"Thanks, Hunk." Lance let himself wallow for a moment more, before deciding it would be best to get both of their minds off of Keith. "So, how about that Shay girl from the Balmera? Been in contact with her lately?"

"I wish," Hunk said truthfully. "Actually, right before we left the Balmera, she and I..."

Conversation was much more comfortable with the focus off of himself, for once. The roses' incessant burning had ceased for the moment, and Hunk never had a boring word to say.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

"Now then, paladins," Allura began, speaking up from where the whole team, save for Keith and Coran, were gathered in the lounge. "I've been meaning to ask you. Coran and I have been attempting to broaden our knowledge on human culture past our regular studies, and we've noticed something quite interesting. Shiro and Hunk seem to have the most prominent ones, but do you all have those Earth markings?" She gestured to the two of them.

Pidge looked up from the tablet they had been reading on and answered before any of the rest of them could think to. "We all _can_ have them; they're a symbol of love for someone else. They represent the subject of affection in a unique way, with a unique flower, and will keep growing until a confession is made, or if the person falls out of love with the subject, in which case they’d fade. Personally, I don't have them and I don't want them, but Shiro and Hunk can speak for themselves." 

"Why wouldn't you want such a staple cultural element of your species?" Allura asked, and Pidge narrowed their eyes, adjusting their glasses. 

"Some people don't experience, or want to experience, romantic attraction, princess," Shiro answered, before they could begin their defense. 

"I see," Allura nodded, then looked around at the rest of them. "Would any of you mind presenting yours?"

Shiro glanced at the sweeping white orchids on his prosthetic. "Well, mine reappeared after I lost my arm. I didn't think they would, since they're really meant for skin. They're for...someone I was waiting for back on Earth. I hope I'll get to see him again." He looked so downcast that Lance was considering taking hold of the conversation before Hunk beat him to it.

"I have some smaller ones," he interrupted, catching a grateful look from Shiro as he pushed up his sleeves to reveal three golden sunflowers resting on green vines. "You all remember Shay, right?"

A chorus of 'aw' arose from Allura, Shiro, and Lance. Pidge joined the tail end of it, but in a very sarcastic monotone. At that moment, Keith walked in and seemed like he regretted his decision.

"What have I been missing?" he asked, leaning against the wall near the entrance.

"Oh, it's incredibly exciting," Allura grinned, "we've been discussing the marks on everyone's arms. Would you mind showing us yours?"

Keith froze up, tugging the cuffs of his leather jacket farther down, although they already covered his gloved wrists. Allura looked to the group for an explanation.

"Some people are a bit more…taciturn about their flowers, princess," Shiro cut in, and her eyes widened before she turned back to Keith. 

"My apologies, Keith." Allura seemed sincere, but Keith just gazed at the ground. "It wasn't my understanding." 

Lance swooped in to save him from the curious eyes of the other paladins. "I actually could show you mine." He shed his jacket and was halfway through pushing his sleeves up before he realized he had just doomed himself.

"Lance!" Allura exclaimed, and before he knew it she was sitting beside him and holding his forearm in front of her, examining the bout of roses. "How do you have so many?"

Lance shot Hunk a helpless look, and got a sympathetic one in return, but that wasn't helping his situation. 

“Well, I’ve actually had a lot of different types, but these are the ones I've had the longest. Couple of years. You know me, princess, just can't help falling in love." The joke was an okay cover, but the others (save for Pidge) were still wide-eyed at the sheer surface area the roses covered, the mere fact that they were on both arms.

"A couple of _years_ , Lance?" Shiro asked, and Lance just shrugged without supplying an excuse, still very aware of the fact that Allura was holding his arm. "How have they not faded?"

"I, uh...I don't really know," Lance replied, lying through his teeth and praying he survived. He snuck a glance at Keith, who was gazing at the arm Allura held with the same fascination she was, even though he'd seen the red flowers before.

"Well, who are they for?" she asked, and Lance tried to look anywhere around the room that wasn't Keith. 

"Someone I knew back at the Garrison." Technically, it wasn't a lie. Luckily, Allura picked up on his tone and let go of his arm, allowing him to push the sleeves back down. 

Keith's had averted his gaze from Lance, but he hadn't left the room yet. The resulting silence was threatening, and Lance's usual conversation-starting powers seemed to be dysfunctional. 

"I think they're lovely," Allura decided, speaking to everyone. "All of them. It seems to be an important part of your species' relationships, and I appreciate you all showing me." 

Lance was mindlessly staring nowhere in particular, but he was wise of Keith's shifting in the corner. Hunk was looking expectantly at Shiro to salvage the conversation, who hadn't caught his eye yet. Pidge was still on their tablet, sitting at an angle on one of the couches, having tuned out once the conversation about love stopped requiring their participation.

"It's something we don't usually get a chance to appreciate ourselves, princess," Shiro spoke up. "Now, is there any more information about the upcoming mission on Aestea? Do we have time to ask any officials about defenses for the grand castle?"

Pidge shot up at that second, nearly breaking their back from the way they were previously sitting. They frantically pushed their glasses back up the bridge of their nose and set their tablet aside.

"Finally, something other than feelings we can talk about," they sighed, standing for emphasis. "So, because of Aestea's atmosphere makeup, they have a fuel for rockets and other airborne weapons that means that they can be fired at incredible speeds with a, frankly crazily small, percentage of pollution and waste of resources. We should really ask for a blueprint or a model or..." their eyes lit up, "even the real thing to experiment on!"

While Hunk looked nearly as excited as they did, and the others were at least trying to understand, Lance looked towards the door and caught sight of the very end of Keith's leg before it disappeared around the corner. He deflated a little, but was happily distracted with Pidge's excited explanations. 

Distracted.

Distracted.

Yes, he was distracted. He wasn't thinking about the roses that were pressing into his skin. He wasn't thinking about Keith's survey of his arm, how he hadn't been looking at _Lance_ , but at the flowers. He wasn't think about how carefully Keith had studied the red petals in the elevator, how his eyes had swept up and down his arm from shoulder to wrist. 

And he definitely, most definitely was _not_ thinking about how Keith pulled down his sleeves when Allura asked about his marks. He certainly wasn't replaying the moment over and over in his head to try and make the memory of it stronger. He wasn't remembering how Keith had shied when the focus shifted to him, knowing the topic of conversation. 

It wasn't a taboo to not have flowers. He wasn't sure why Keith would want to hide it, he'd already seen Keith's bare, flowerless arms before, and hadn’t been condescending. Pidge had none, and nobody was judging them for it. There had to be some reason why Keith didn't want anyone to know.

Really, if there was anyone that got the short end of the stick from Keith not having flowers, it was Lance, the guy with the the floristry on his arms that basically screamed IN LOVE WITH KEITH, RED PALADIN. 

If anyone was worse off, it was Lance, the guy who'd fallen for someone who barely knew who he was. 

If anyone had it the worst, it was Lance, the romantic at heart who wanted nothing more than to confess to someone who had never thrown more than a neutral glance at him. 

Why did it have to be him?

  
Oh, well. It wasn't like he hadn't felt agony before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so y’all know, all of your comments mean the world to me and i love hearing from you guys more than anything. award for the best audience in the world goes to all of you lovely people.


	4. there’s only so much you can do to keep some things alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a chapter i’ve had planned from the start, from my own experiences in a hurricane.  
> this has to be one of my favorites to write, even though it’s a shorter chapter 
> 
> the tragedies that lance has experienced, and maybe why he fell in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *REVISED 1/10/21
> 
> again i'm so glad i went through this because the spacing was horrid

Irma was hell on Varadero.

The hurricane came to welcome September, and Lance's cousins claimed they'd even seen the swirling sky in the rear view mirror as they drove as far away from the coastline as they could get.

There was nothing that could save the house. He knew, his parents knew, his siblings knew. They packed up as many van-fuls of their belongings as they had time to bring, which wasn't much. Lance had salvaged his photo albums, guitar, and everything in his grandmother's prayer room that wasn't already sitting in big canvas bags in the backseat of her car.

He'd had to part with the surfboards that he and his siblings had used for years, except for the one that managed to fit on top of his sister's car, the one that they'd nearly lost to the unceasing wind in their final trip back. They took a bag or two of clothes each, and all the food they dared to.

Lance and as much of his family that fit were holed up in a rented house where Havana met Mayabeque, the storm pounding on their windows and scaring the younger cousins. Himself, his parents, his grandmother, two of his aunts and one uncle, three of his cousins, his cousin's wife and son, his four brothers and sisters (and his sister's husband), three of his nieces, and his two twin nephews. 

Eleven adults, five teenagers, and seven children in six and a half rooms.

Lance and his brothers took turns on the guitar, strumming out what they could remember when the thunder wasn't roaring as loud. They played games they hadn't played since they were young and bored on the weekends, giving a part of their past to the littlest ones. When they ran out of paper, they drew on their skin, scolded later by their mothers that they'd have to use the clean water they had left to wash it off. 

When the power went out, they would light the candles and huddle together under knitted blankets, telling stories and recounting books. By flickering candlelight and a lot of patience, Lance's cousin taught him how to braid, and by the time the wicks burned low and the rain was nothing more than a dull white noise, he'd learned three different plaits.

Lance spent time with his aunts, trying his best to learn how to knit as they sat on the big flowery couch in the rented living room, talking about how much their nieces and nephews had grown. 

He played cards with his siblings and his parents in what he'd dubbed The Great McClain Variety Card Match, in which he came in third, second, fourth, third again, and finally first in games that their family had passed around since before he was born. 

He taught his oldest niece how to play a few simple songs on his guitar, which was much too big for her, but she had caught on quickly.

Sometimes it was easy to forget they were going through a hurricane at all, just spending time with family, all hanging out like they would at the beach, living easy life, until the storm would swell and rage once more, and his three-month-old twin nephews would cry as his sister and her husband would try to comfort them. Lance would swallow the fear cumulating in his throat, glance across the room at his wide-eyed nieces and younger cousins, then look to his siblings, and they'd do their best to keep the little ones distracted.

Havana was flooded, the water too high to wade through at its roughest, not that it would have been safe anyways. The storm crescendoed and pounded at the roof, rain attacking the shutterless house like bullets, threatening to loosen the plywood that had been hastily nailed in front of the windows.

And they hadn't even suffered the worst of the damage.

All those weeks later, after the flooding had gone down and the worst of the storm was over, Lance went back out. They needed to survey the damage done to the house, but he needed to see something else, too.

At his siblings' protest, he didn't take the one remaining surfboard out onto the waves again. They were right, it wasn't safe. But, he did go out to the dock behind his old house. It was, by some miracle, still standing. The light at the top of the highest pole where the seagulls used to cluster was gone, but it had suffered no other damage.

He went to the edge of the rickety old thing, laid out a beach towel so he didn't get any splinters. He attempted stretching out when he laid down, but his legs had gotten much too long in the past few years. 

It could have been hours that he was out there, just staring at the sky.

They don't tell you what the sky looks like after a hurricane.

They tell you what it looks like in the thick of the storm, with grey, churning clouds, spiraling water that made you seasick by just thinking about it, thunderous crackling and unimaginable havoc.

But no one ever describes the aftermath. 

No one describes the faint stretch of gold at the horizon's edge, where the sunset is ebbing away. No one describes the royal blue that begins the sky's descent into a rich indigo, reaching an almost-black at the very center. No one's ever talked about the lavender clouds, thin, like paintstrokes across the giant sphere of the sky. The honey-colored streaks of light stemming from the sun's final impressions, like ribbons cut from a medallion. How it all pulls together, the lilac smoke like a sheen over the entire sphere, so wicked and divine.

It looks like you just missed the end of a supernova. There was so much beauty after death and destruction had run their course. 

And Lance can't ever forget that shade of purple.

So maybe that was why he'd come to love Keith, why he'd first been so magnetically drawn to him.

That very same indigo, the one he'd found in the eyes that met his those years ago, was spilled out across the sky on the night he felt the first light after devastation. The inkling of a feeling that even after ruin, there was hope. 

Maybe that was why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! when you look up ‘sky after a hurricane’ it kind of gives you these weird ones and that’s not what i’m talking about so........
> 
> [here](https://ibb.co/DMjDgr7) is a picture i took after a hurricane! i couldn’t get it to format right with HTML, don’t really know why, but this is the sky i based the description off of.
> 
> thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos, i really do appreciate it :)


	5. grew it from the ground up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and just when you thought it couldn’t get worse!
> 
> Chapter 5, or, as i call it, How Much Can Aaalice Make Lance Suffer?
> 
> in which it gets worse, much worse, and lance’s options are very slim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this goes out to the person who asked ‘where else do the flowers grow when they’ve covered the arms?’ or something like that i don’t really remember
> 
> *REVISED 1/10/21

By now, Lance didn't have to see the roses flowering to feel it.

He knew what it felt like for them to grow in real time; while it usually happened slowly overnight while the mind had more time to dwell on love, there was an occasional blossom or two that could show up if the feeling was especially strong. 

And now that he was trying to distract himself, he fell ten times as fast, and the roses stretched from both wrists to both shoulders, daring him to fall farther.

He had had many a flower grow while gazing at Eloise furiously moving her pencil, Ollie finally standing up as he coasted on a wave, or, more recently, catching a glimpse of Keith through the training room window while he was battling four gladiators with one hand behind his back. 

That instance, he remembered, resulted in the birth of a vine curling from the tip of his shoulder towards his sternum, like a green shadow of his collarbone. But that was weeks ago, and that vine had since sprouted a new scarlet rose that was inching closer and closer to his heart. God, this was getting to be unsafe. 

Speaking of unsafe, nothing was averting Lance's quest to stop the flowers more than the perils Keith continued to plunge himself into whenever he got the chance. He was a reckless self-sacrificer, even if he _did_ have the piloting skills to protect both himself and his teammates. 

Battles were the only time Lance, or at least some smaller part of his mind, wasn't constantly focusing on Keith. In those moments, he was expected to be the blue paladin, not a swooning disaster, and there was no time to think about the roses. Well, unless Keith did something particularly impressive, which he did about every five minutes. 

Lance still refused to get over the day Keith launched out of Red's cockpit and onto a ship, fighting and successfully defeating a Galra commander hand-to-hand before taking out a cannon that allowed the other lions to begin defeating the rest of the fleet unbarred by the cannon's threat, then got back in his lion and finished the battle like he'd never left. 

He had a sense memory of that particular instance, where a rose above his clavicle that had been waiting to blossom had opened and bloomed a brilliant red.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

When they touched back down in the castleship after a small meeting with some rebel groups, Lance finally has the chance to change out of his armor. He found a discarded pair of sweatpants that he figured were good enough for now. He went to find a clean shirt, accidentally catching a glimpse of his back in the mirror, barely catching himself from falling in his sudden shock. He took a few seconds to breathe before looking again.

He knew that the roses had covered his arms, and were starting to seek ownership of his collar, but he hadn't realized that they were covering his _entire upper back_ now, too. 

"When the hell...?" He craned his neck over his shoulder and backed up towards the mirror so he could see better. Once he'd had enough of examining the vibrant crimson resting on his shoulder blades, he turned away and pressed the tips of his fingers against his temples.

"Shit. That can _not_ be good." He took one last glance at them in the mirror, then forced himself to look away, spotting a shirt on one of his shelves and throwing it on under his jacket, the roses safely out of sight. "Since when have they been…?” he muttered to himself.

It wasn't his fault that the roses wanted what they couldn't have. Keith was a paladin, a savior of the universe, the right arm of Voltron, a tunnel-focused mission accomplisher that never let anything get in the way of him and his teammates getting the job done. Keith just couldn't spend time on Lance, it wouldn't be a smart move, and Lance didn't even need Keith to tell him that. 

He was totally fine with just being Keith's teammate. It was the roses that wanted more. The roses wanted friendship, wanted romance, wanted walks on galactic beaches with watercolored sky, wanted someone to wake up to, wanted stolen kisses and sweet nothings. Wanted _devotion_. Wanted a _confession_. Wanted _love_.

And he found himself thinking dangerous things.

_you don't even have to love me back, be mine, i don't have to be yours._

Things he couldn't feign blaming the roses for this time, because the roses couldn't think.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

A week later, Lance woke up one morning groggy and upset. No particular dreams, just that aching sense of being alone. Fun as always. At this point, he didn't feel so much sad as he did pathetic.

He made an attempt at getting ready, managing to do the minimum for his skincare routine before he got too downhearted to continue. He was disappointing himself, he knew, but trudged on through his foggy thoughts and put on a clean pair of jeans. He ran his hands through his hair as he walked up to the mirror, but soon dropped them to his sides.

"No..." he whispered, a pleading sort of sound that meant he knew it wouldn't do him any good.

Since he was still in a relatively stretchy pajama shirt that left his arms and throat exposed, it was all too clear. He brought a hand up to his neck, almost feeling the petals flourish on his skin, confirming what he had already known, that the tide of roses wouldn't ebb anytime soon. They had inched up his collar and embedded in the back of his neck, reaching vines out towards his jaw that would soon be alive with another bout of sickeningly red blossoms.

Well, the way he saw it, he had three options.

1\. Do nothing. Let the rest of them see how the unannounced love had conquered him and refused to cease its infectious growth. Let them realize what a coward he was for keeping such a massive, horrible secret from them all. Disappoint them.

2\. Cover it up. He could find some sort of alien foundation, maybe a powder that could cover up the wretched things. Or he could just start wearing his hood up so it hid the back of his neck. Their paladin armor covered every rose without fail, so that wouldn't be too much of an issue.

3\. Isolate himself. They couldn't tell if anything was different if they never saw him, right? He could stay up in his room, eventually Hunk would come to check up on him. Hunk could be the mediator, tell the others that Lance was sick and bring him food; Hunk already knew that Lance's flowers tended to spread fast. He'd understand if Lance was scared.

"Hey, Lance?"

Speak of the devil.

"Lance, I know you're in there."

Lance groaned, throwing his jacket over his sleep shirt and zipping it as high as it'd go, pulling the collar up and dragging the hood over his head. He flattened his palm against the sensor reluctantly, praying with all his might that Hunk was alone.

The doors slid open, and Lance let his shoulders relaxed as he observed the singular figure in the doorway.

"Look, man, can we talk?" Hunk had a tentative look on his face, not an unfamiliar expression.

"About...?" Lance prompted, still carrying the weight of his oncoming decision.

"Well first, about why your jacket is pulled all the way up, although I think I know the answer to that." At that, Lance diverted his eyes, motioning Hunk into his room and closing the doors quickly behind him.

With his heart in his throat, Lance unzipped his all-too-worn-out jacket and shrugged it off of his shoulders.

He was expecting something different from Hunk's response. Something like a soulful, heavy, "Oh...Lance, no..." that he had come to expect from a reveal such as this. But after a few painful seconds of silence, he heard entirely something else.

"You have to tell him."

Lance's gaze snapped up from the floor to the suddenly serious look in his friend's eyes.

"I have to do no such thing," he answered, with an equally firm tone.

"Look at what it's doing to you!" Hunk insisted, "You've been hurting for _so long_ , and you can't keep hiding something like this. If you don't tell him...I will!"

"Oh, no you won’t." Lance crossed his arms with a pointed defiance, and Hunk backed off the smallest bit.

"Yeah, okay, I won't," he relented, "it should totally come from you, you're right. But you still have to tell him! If not for your own sake, he at least deserves to know."

"You don't think I know that?" Lance's tone was bordering on accusatory, though he was really just exhausted, and it felt like an awfully foreign attitude.

"I know you do," was the calm response, but there was no stopping Lance's train of anger.

"Do you?" he asked, and it sounded like a challenge. 

"Hey," Hunk warned, "don't say that.”

Lance felt chagrin coil in his stomach, already regretting his word choice. His heart caught in his throat and the apology went unsaid, Lance hoping that, in the absence of his voice, Hunk would understand that he hadn’t meant it.

"I'm just saying that if you really, really felt that he should know, it wouldn't be something you were considering. You would have done it."

Lance sighed. "I know. I'm just...I'm scared. I've never not been able to tell someone how much I love them. That's...you know it better than anyone, dude, that's never been a difficult thing. But I don't want to tell him. I know I'll have to eventually, but..." he trailed.

"Why not? What do you think he'd say?" It was just impossible for Hunk to be anything but compassionate, wasn't it? Lance just felt worse and worse about snapping at him.

"He'd probably laugh at me. Or run, or something. And he doesn't have any flowers, remember? We both went to the pool together a while ago, and he saw mine and he didn't have any. There's no poi-"

"PALADINS, TO YOUR LIONS IMMEDIATELY. THE AESTEAN CASTLE IS BEING TARGETED, AND GALRA FLEETS ARE APPROACHING.” 

Allura's authoritative voice echoed over the intercom, and without a second thought, Lance and Hunk were bolting out of Lance's room and down to the hangars.

Shiro was the last of them to check in, sliding forward in Black's pilot seat and commanding movement towards Aestea as soon as his hands met the controls.

It was a small fleet, nothing they hadn't taken down a hundred times before, but they were heading straight for the capital city, launching several rounds of fighters on the large, ornate castle residing in the center of town. The main building hadn't suffered much yet, although the spires already looked like they would need a few repairs.

Lance had had a close run-in with a piece of falling debris from a fighter that Hunk, so graciously, had shoulder-cannoned to shreds, having to redirect the hulking piece of purple metal out of the Aestean atmosphere and into the vastness of space.

Boy, was Lance glad that his armor covered his neck and his teammates couldn't look too closely at their screens in the heat of battle. 

He had been doing just fine until Keith had ripped through a dozen fighters in one sweeping blast of Red's heat ray, and had let out a whoop that Lance could feel down his whole spine, where he knew the vines lay in wait, itching to cover the next few blank spaces of skin. 

It almost felt like they were burning; he could feel the sharp lines etching in the roses' distinctive outlines. It was bad enough that they'd started spreading down his back, he didn't know what he'd do if they began an ascent up his jawline, if it became too obvious to hide.

After all, he'd been growing this garden for years, willingly and unwillingly, ever since the loner kid at the Garrison had thrown a whopping one (1) singular look in his direction and Lance had caught the tiniest glimpse of those amethyst eyes. 

Really, he'd thought, the flowers decorating his entire torso should be larkspurs or hyacinths, something purple, born from the shade he'd fallen in love with initially. 

Now that he'd come to learn more about Keith, watched him flourish in the role of the red paladin, there was no doubt at all that Lance's roses bloomed for him. 

Lance had never hated them. 

Sure, there were plenty of petals born of unrequited love. A lot of them were, actually, but he never really minded. Even if he never ended up confessing, having such a beautiful tapestry on his arms was prize enough.

He never expected his own desire for love to be his downfall, the symbol of what he once bore so proudly now the bane of his existence.

It shouldn't have been this painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot express how much i love these boys  
> this actually includes the very first scenes that i wrote for this au!!
> 
> the support i've been getting for this has been so astounding, i don't think i can ever thank you guys enough :)


	6. once it takes hold, flowers die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we know that lance has been suffering for the past nine thousand words or so, but what has keith been feeling?
> 
> just so you know, on the official vld wiki, it says that keith “is prone to self-consciousness and fears being rejected by others due to the loss of his parents as a child, feeling that he was abandoned, and he tends to keep people at a distance and shut them out before they can reject him first in order to protect himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes out to the person who said ‘i’m dying to know how keith feels’ or something like that i don’t really remember
> 
> *REVISED 1/10/21

For a while, love meant nothing to Keith.

It was just a word, a trope that meant the leading lady got the leading man, that there would be a kiss and sunset scene, that two textbook characters had resolved their fight, and that _aw_ s would come from the studio audience. The plot of thousands of movies that would play on the televisions in stores and diners.

In the few memories Keith could make out of those months before his dad died, he never really remembered the word 'love' specifically, even if he could chalk it up to being a little kid. It wasn't a bad relationship, it just wasn't something he ever really looked back on with 'love.' 

And yes, when he was alone and barely surviving, he wished for a person, but not someone to love. He didn't want affection or care, he wanted someone who was old enough to get a job so he might have a consistent meal schedule for once.

When he got to the Garrison, love became something else. It was sometimes cute and sometimes gross, but it meant glances and gossip and crushes and attention and other things that seemed too juvenile for teenagers, and Keith wanted absolutely no part of it.

The boy sitting next to him in his physics class asked him one day if he thought Marisol, a girl who sat two tables away, was 'hot,' and he didn't know how to respond. So he'd just shrugged.

He never really caught on to the idea that he should be thinking about girls the way the other boys were, though it wasn't something he thought needed an explanation.

Sometimes, after Shiro had been introduced to him, love meant pride and care and sacrifice. It meant that Keith would get a pat on the shoulder after he'd gotten a good score, that Shiro would be there knocking at his door and checking up on him when he stormed off to his room, that Shiro defended him or took the fall whenever Keith lost his temper in front of his superiors.

He didn't understand at first why Shiro had just refused to give up on him, why he wouldn't abandon Keith like everyone else had been wise enough to do. 

Then he learned, it was some sort of love. It was an interest in Keith's well-being, it was the position of a caretaker, but not like the social service ones who'd treated him like he was a charity case that the Garrison just had to take. 

Better. He supposed that was what it was like to have an older brother, and while he overestimated that a sibling might care as often, it wasn't too bad a feeling.

He didn't end up really _showing_ any love until the rescue; after all of those long months in the desert, alone with his thoughts and his senses, he finally had hope that he could see Shiro again. 

It was something he had to prove, that he’d learned to care about someone, that Shiro had been right about him. That being kicked out of the Garrison hadn’t stopped him from accomplishing anything. 

That he’d been working on finding something amazing, something more important than anything he would have learned back then.

He needed to prove that he was worth the struggle Shiro had gone through.

_"Nope. No you—No, no, no. No, you don’t._ I'm _saving Shiro."_

Lance, as Keith had come to learn in the first few days in the castle, had a strong personality.

He had described their relationship, which Keith had absolutely no memory of, as a rivalry. Keith didn't understand that at all; he didn't even know who this boy _was_ , much less that they had been 'neck and neck' for the past few years before he'd gotten expelled.

Despite this, he was the type of person that Keith learned to appreciate; although if he'd only judged Lance on his first few impressions, he never would have talked to him again. But he came to recognize Lance as a great pilot and marksman, and the kind of peacemaker that Keith himself had never managed to be. 

He'd done his best to warm up to Lance, and, while it couldn't be considered a huge effort, it was at least an attempt. He only really engaged in the so called 'rivalry' when Lance roped him into it, challenging his ego and daring him to defend it. 

They weren't on such hostile terms anymore. They’d had enough time working together to realize that fighting would only make things worse, even if they took the occasional jab at each other every now and again.

Contrary to Lance's opinion, Keith didn't hate him. Lance really only got on his nerves sometimes, and even then it could be a little endearing. Keith always ended up exacting a harmless revenge, and everything would be exactly as it was. 

Fine, just fine.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Shiro came in and stopped Keith while he was training again, as he always seemed to do just when Keith's legs were a minute short of giving out. Keith barely even put up a fight this time, agreeing, for once, that it was time to stop. Shiro looked proud, and that was enough.

Keith had done the same thing for past few days, pretend he had the motivation to overtake his own highest score, although the best he got was two levels below. He persuaded himself that it was just because they'd had more frequent attacks, he just had less energy, not because he was trying to clear his mind of his most recent bout of intrusive thoughts. He prided himself on his focus, but something was just...different. 

He couldn't stop thinking about Lance's roses. He had seen them fully already, been victim in the elevator on that fateful day, still sure his spine had never completely stopped aching after Emperor's-New-Groove-ing their way up, as Lance had described it (though hell if Keith knew _at all_ what that meant).

He'd never seen so many flowers on one person in his life, and he'd had to force himself to look away from them after a bout of captivation. 

Keith never really stopped to examine how beautiful anything was, there was always something more important to worry about than appearances, but _damn_ those were pretty.

To think, how nice it could have been to be on the receiving end of all that love.

It made sense when he thought about it. Lance always carried strong emotions, he showed his appreciation for his teammates and he was guided by his heart. The litany of roses seemed appropriate. But still...all those blossoms, every single petal for one person.

Keith never really understood why Lance continued to flirt with every semi-female alien they came into contact with despite his flowers. He supposed it meant nothing, then, if the person Lance loved was back on Earth, they couldn't really do much about it. 

Besides, Lance never really professed any kind of devotion to any of the recipients of his pick up lines, just simpler compliments that never ended up leading to anything besides his being tied to a tree. 

It was incredible how Lance didn't let the flowers distract him, too, since they seemed to be distracting Keith so much. Lance barely noticed them most of the time, just went about his duties with his usual optimism and friendliness, including the occasional provoking remark towards Keith just to get a rise out of him.

There was just something so impressive about Lance's focus and determination, how dedicated he was to the team. How much of him was invested in Voltron and his role as a paladin, gripped close to his chest like he might lose it. 

He'd shoot down soldiers one by one in quick succession, pilot Blue like he was born to do it, and kick back after it was all over like they didn't just tear themselves apart in the span of a few hours. Made it look easy, like he was the best and only person for the job.

Fought for the good of the team. Just like Keith did. Or…tried to, that is.

And no, it was not _admiration_ , he was simply noticing behavior. Just looking, just harmless observation, just knowing that Lance nearly always had a smile on his face but was able to take things seriously. Just noting that Lance knew the impact of the battles without dulling his pep. 

Keith saluted his goodbye to Shiro after promising to actually leave the training room and not just wait until Shiro went back to bed to start up the next level, like he'd done a whopping three times in the past. He was definitely considering it, unable to get his mind to shut the hell up, but he was exhausted and Shiro was right. 

He found himself thinking again, as a result. Unfortunately. 

What did it matter that Lance had so many roses? Who even cared? Not Keith. So Lance loved someone. A lot. Like, a record-defying amount. So much that Keith didn't know where those roses would even keep growing towards without a confession, and outer space wasn't a likely setting for one, being far away from any other people Lance had met and all. But how, how in the infinite universe did anyone find themselves lucky enough to warrant that much love?

And no, Keith was not jealous. Not at all. If anything, he felt bad for the person, never knowing how much they meant to Lance. A horrible situation to be in, really. He felt bad for Lance too, having to carry that burden, knowing that none of the team had any idea when they'd be back to Earth, if ever.

No, it would be ridiculous for him to be jealous. Keith had no need for love or flowers or planning out dates or getting to spend his free time with someone who cared about him as much as he cared about them. Nope, not jealous, not jealous at all. He just didn't get the big idea. Nobody should be able to cause that. Not because it was unfair (although, to Keith, it was a little) but because it seemed so impossible.

How would someone even feel so strongly when they were in love, romantically? It was his understanding that he would feel like his pulse was quickening and his face was getting warmer, but that sounded more like discomfort than love. 

Love was lighthearted and soft, wasn't it? That was why it wasn't a big part of Keith's life. He was supposed to be a warrior and the right-hand of the universe's only defense. He just didn't _fit_ in that sweet, loving world. It wasn't meant for him.

That was a world he could see Lance in, though, holding hands and moonlit walks and coffee shops, doing whatever else it was that couples did. Not that Lance didn't fit in the role he held now, but he had the capacity for compassion and patience and appreciation in a way that Keith just didn't. 

Lance comforted people and congratulated them and listened, always heeded his orders and was immediately friendly with whoever he was introduced to; had two strong arms full of roses proving that he'd devoted time to loving someone.

No, no, no, Keith needed to cut that out. There was absolutely no reason why he should be determining how well his teammate (who very clearly already loved someone) would do in a relationship. Why, why the hell was he doing this? 

Love couldn't be this, it couldn't be being cooped up on a space-traversing castle complete with robot lions and thinking about a cocky optimist who was already madly in love with someone else. It couldn't be Keith tearing himself apart with the question of what was happening. He needed some new definition to keep that part of his brain silent.

For now, love meant flowers. 

It meant that his kind-of-friend at the Garrison, Charlotte, had cherry blossoms on her forearm because she thought some girl in her mechanics class was pretty and kind and a good singer. 

It meant that Shiro had white orchids on his arm, and Adam had Queen Anne's lace on his. It meant that Keith had been taught that he could have flowers of his own someday, even if he hadn't really seen it happening. 

It meant that there was someone out there with a garden of roses dedicated to them, someone who didn't even know it was there.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

It started before he could catch it.

Before he realized it had been too long.

Before he thought he was ready.

Before he could skid to a halt and understand what he was doing.

Before he could grab his brain by the metaphorical shoulders and tell it to _stop that right now before you make it worse_. 

Now that it had begun, it was a boulder careening down a hill, no way to stop it. The only forseeable end was destruction.

He knew he wouldn't be able to handle this. He might be a paladin, but he'd never been under this type of pressure before, and he'd no doubt shatter like a window pane. There was no ledge to grab for purchase, no one he could beg to or trust, no one willing to see that this would break him.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Keith turned the corner, catching the tail end of a group-spanning affectionate sigh, which he had to stop himself from immediately exiting from. He followed everyone else's eyes to Hunk, clearly displaying sunflowers on his arm. That was a dangerous topic of discussion.

"What have I been missing?" he asked, though he was fairly sure of the answer.

"Oh, it's incredibly exciting," Allura explained, "we've been discussing the marks on everyone's arms. Would you mind showing us yours?"

Everyone was looking at him now, exactly what he was afraid of, and the reason why he had stayed in the corner. Allura was fully exhibiting genuine interest, and he was sure that if he didn't give an answer, she'd walk up to him and shove his sleeve up his arm to see if she was right. 

In (albeit, unrealistic) preparation, he tugged his sleeves down, the red and white leather momentarily straining on his shoulders at the pull. 

"Some people are a bit more…taciturn about their flowers, princess."

Shiro to the rescue, as usual, and Keith made a mental note to leave all his earthly possessions to Shiro in his will. 

He needed to leave the room as soon as possible. Though he barely registered Allura's apology, his attention was thieved by Lance's diversion to his own flowers. 

Still there, still brilliantly red, still so irreverent that Keith had nearly forgotten about leaving. Not going anywhere, even if Lance was giving him a chance to.

Shiro's redirection to the upcoming battle snapped him back to his senses. Everyone was focused on whatever tech Pidge was explaining, and, while he did want them to show him the ropes later because they liked talking about it and he liked hearing about it outside of group settings, it let him leave undetected.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Keith honestly shouldn't have been awake, but at this point he didn't care. There was no use in trying to control insomnia, and no use in staying in his room with nothing to do. He would just end up thinking about Lance’s stupid roses and how Allura was looking at them like the Crown Jewels, like he had been for the past few sleepless nights. 

He would train if the automated voice and the sword/gladiator beatdowns weren’t so damn loud, but he didn't want to risk waking anyone up. He decided instead on just getting one of the odd drink pouch things they'd had a few times, since he wasn't so sure there would be much else that happened to be human-friendly in the kitchen.

Still in his jeans and black shirt, he shrugged on his jacket, knowing the castle was often colder during the 'night' phase for energy-saving purposes. He secured the short Marmoran knife in its place on his utility belt (no such thing as too careful) and walked down the long grey halls to the kitchen.

What he wasn't expecting was Lance to be there, combing through the various cupboards for anything vaguely edible. He wore a long blue robe with angular gold accents, tied at the waist with a gold cord. 

As he reached up, the wide sleeves fell to his elbows, revealing the veil of roses on his arms. He pulled out a box covered in Altean writing, and only then did he notice Keith.

"What are _you_ doing up?" Lance asked, eyes no longer on the indecipherable labels.

"I could ask you the same," Keith replied.

"Not really dude, it's pretty obvious I'm getting food." Lance set the box down and leaned against the countertop. "How come you're still in street clothes? I mean, not 'street,' since we're in space and all, but you get me."

Lance was facing him at a slight angle now, and that's when Keith saw it. The neckline of the robe exposed the inflorescence on his neck, one tiny leaf latched to the very angle of his jaw. There were even smaller blooms on his collarbone, standing out in stark contrast to the blue and gold. 

"Uh..." Lance said, cutting through the awkward silence, "at ease, soldier?"

Shit, he'd been staring too long.

"Sorry," Keith blinked. "I'm...I sleep in these so I don't have to get out of pajamas if there's an attack."

Lance just looked at him quizzically. "Why does it matter what you're wearing? We change into paladin armor anyway."

"That..." Keith thought for a moment, "...is a fair point. I don't know. I didn't bring any other clothes."

"Yeah, but they have Altean sleepwear for us." Lance turned his attention back to the box of mysterious maybe-food, shaking it to clue himself in to what it contained. "I'm not even kidding, it's in our colors and everything. Kind of perfect if you ask me."

Keith just shrugged, still very much focused on the roses climbing up Lance's neck. Now that he was focused on translating Altean, Keith could do so freely. So many, so, _so_ many. Could they cover his hands? Reach to his cheekbones? How could Lance stop this without confessing?

Completely disregarding what Lance had said, Keith took a step closer. "I'm sorry for asking, but who...?" He fumbled for words a second longer as Lance met his eyes again. "How do you...?"

"How do I...?" Lance echoed, trying to get Keith to finish his sentence.

"Do you want us to go back to Earth? I can't imagine it's easy to have...all of those." He gestured to the Lance's neck. His attention was still divided between red roses and blue irises, not sure which was demanding more of his focus.

Lance's eyes went wide and he covered the side of his neck with his hand. "Shit, I forgot to cover them." His expression was sheepish now. "I'm guessing you can't exactly forget you saw that and head back to bed, huh?"

Keith shook his head. "I'm serious, we really should let you confess. It hasn't stopped since you've been on the castle, so I'm assuming Voltron got in the way of you doing that."

"No, no," Lance was quick to negate, "we shouldn't stop. I'm fine. This is nothing. Don't worry about it."

 _That makes me want to worry about it_ and _I get it, I'll leave you alone_ were Keith's two options, and he didn't like either of them. When _he_ didn't want to talk about something, all he wanted was to be left to deal with it himself, but right now something in him cared too much about Lance.

So Keith went with the third, bonus option, the one that helped nobody.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Lance nodded, a little too quickly. "I'll probably come to my senses soon. Won't let it distract me." 

So that was what he thought Keith wanted to hear. That this wouldn't affect the _team_.

"Alright," Keith gave in, not wanting to make this any worse for him.

Lance gave up on trying to understand the possibly-edible contents of the box based on context clues, replacing it in the cabinet. He turned to Keith and crossed his arms. "Get what you came for?"

"Sure," Keith muttered. Completely forgetting about whatever it is he came for, he turned and began the journey back to his room, tugging his sleeves down.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

_how terrifying — and yet how exhilarating it is to know that there are cries in me which are still unheard_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we’re almost at the grand finale!!! i know how much you guys have sat through, and i’m so stoked to let you know that we’re almost to the happy part.
> 
> very excited to announce:  
> [JustMeWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustMeWriting/pseuds/JustMeWriting) ([yeeiguess](https://tumblr.com/%5Byeeiguess%5D) on tumblr) made [this](https://yeeiguess.tumblr.com/post/623333451984224256/fanart-for-love-built-a-garden-by-aaalice-on-ao3) amazing fanart of lance in this au!!!!
> 
> [Inkmonster69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkmonster69/pseuds/Inkmonster69) ([Inkmonster69](https://mobile.twitter.com/Inkmonster69) on twitter) did [this](https://twitter.com/inkmonster69/status/1284292429424844800?s=21) gorgeous piece of rose-covered lance!


	7. love built this garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the grand finale!!!!! we’re here!!!   
> in which some words are exhanged and more secrets are revealed than anyone thought, including me.
> 
> i sincerely apologize for how long this took, i was only planning on 4k but it got a little out of hand. a lot out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been real, guys. 
> 
> i hope you’re ready.
> 
> *REVISED 1/10/21  
> i flustered m y s e l f revising this   
> how did i do this?????

"Lance! On your left!"

Lance veered to the right, pulling Blue into a sharp ascent to avoid an array of blasts from the six Galra drones trained on him.

"Thanks, Hunk." He turned and countered with a shot from Blue's mouth cannon, freezing his pursuers. 

On his way to take down a few more, he managed a well-aimed shot at the helm of the gigantic battleship, leaving a sizable dent in the metal and a similarly sized boost to his ego.

"Keith," Shiro began, "there's an opening in the drones on your right. If you can get up to the-“

"I see it," Keith responded before Shiro could even finish talking, diving through the aligned space. Activating Red's jawblade, Keith tore through the side of the battleship, explosions close behind him from the ripping metal and the several drones that had followed him. 

Lance reminded himself to focus on helping his teammates, not just admiring them absently. He dove towards Hunk and Shiro, his impeccable shooting skills coming in handy as they cut through the massive swarm of drones surrounding Black. 

He could hear Keith and Pidge frantically talking to each other over the comms, trying to wound the main ship as best they could. After hearing cheers from their end, he allowed himself one glance to the corner of his screen to see Keith's face light up, and his chest ached at how proud Keith looked.

A compliment died in Lance's throat before he could work up the courage to say it, a heavy crash drawing his attention back to the scene before him where a trio of drones had just struck one of Yellow's legs. 

Lance was able to shoot off the drones and the bit of guilt he’d fleetingly assumed, but it Hunk was forced to spend a few precious moments regaining his balance. 

"How are there more?" Hunk's incredulous voice crackled over the comms, and Lance followed the direction Yellow was facing to find another bout of tiny diamond-shaped ships headed their way. 

The fleet was slowly but surely pushing them back towards Aestea, where defenses were ready but not nearly as effective as Voltron itself. 

The Aesteans had focused more on protecting than attacking, shields in place around the castles and as many aerial barriers up as they could fit in the sky, which left the offensive position to fall on Voltron’s armored shoulders. 

"There's too many targets," Keith muttered. 

"Keith, Lance," Shiro ordered, "you keep fending them off." Even if Shiro wasn't looking at him, Lance nodded. "Pidge, Hunk, you're with me. Let's do some damage."

They leapt into action, Black, Yellow, and Green making a beeline for the body of the giant ship with weapons at the ready. Steeled and focused, they deftly wove around each other to avoid the ion cannon. Shiro's voice was steady even in the heat of battle, though Lance reduced it to background noise, knowing his orders were for Pidge and Hunk.

Lance was dead set on tracking each of the hundred-odd incoming dones, and without a word between them, Keith fell into place beside him as they flew into the fray. Even with their spats and instigations, they were two of a kind in battle. 

And, like everything between them seemed to become at one point or another, it quickly became an unspoken competition of who could clear their side of the battle cruiser faster. Lance caught a few flashes of red metal from his side, his own pride urging him to go faster. 

While Lance much preferred wielding the laser and cannons that each of the lions had in default, Keith's favorite seemed to be zigzagging through hordes of drones, jawblade extended, cutting through metal at the speed of light. 

"This isn't working," Pidge sounded in their ears. "We can't beat this thing alone."

"Do what you can," Keith responded. "We only need a bit longer to take these guys down."

"I'll give you a hand," they offered, and soon Green was circling overhead, firing shots at the drones in Keith and Lance's blindspots. 

The three of them managed to fend off the last of the fleet with only a few scratches, rushing to join Hunk and Shiro where they were attacking the main ship with everything they had. 

Shiro delivered a deafening blast, a crater forming in the battleship's dark metal. "We need to form Voltron. Everyone into formation."

As they all pulled away from the ship, Keith spotted a stray fighter that had been hidden under one of the slats jutting out of the battle cruiser and was now headed straight for them. Keith was quick to shoot at it, but only caught its wing, and it was back in motion before he could take another shot.

He tried to alert the team, but by the time he'd called for the others, it had already fired successful shots at Hunk's blindspot. Yellow was sent into a forceful collision with Blue, and it was evident by the noise over the comms that Lance had taken the majority of the blow.

"Lance!" All four of their voices sounded in his helmet, but he was a bit too busy involuntarily launching out of his chair and smashing against the side panel of the Blue lion to answer.

It took a moment for him to respond after the crash knocked the wind out of him and numbed his limbs, but he managed to clamber back into the pilot's seat from which he'd been so forcefully thrown. He didn't _think_ anything was broken, but he couldn't feel much of anything currently.

"I think I'm okay," Lance disclosed, still shocked from the crash. He surveyed the now-unlit controls and empty screen. "But, uh...I don't think Blue is."

"Oh man, I'm so sorry," Hunk said earnestly, "I did _not_ mean to do that."

"It's alright," Lance said automatically, not exactly focused on the conversation or the fact that the stray drone had been shot down. 

He gripped the controls, pushing and pulling to gauge some kind of reaction, but the screen stayed dead. His arms and sides hurt immensely, even when doing the simplest of maneuvers.

"Lance, we need you," Keith urged. While the validation was kind to his pride, the situation was too dire to focus on it.

Lance closed his eyes and tried to focus on his bond with Blue, murmuring encouragement to coax her to life. Unfortunately, his concentration was severely impaired, what with the throbbing in his head, and Blue refused to answer.

"She's not responding," he said defeatedly. "There's nothing I can do."

"The ion cannon is already charging," Shiro warned. "We'll just have to take them down without Voltron...somehow. Keith, Red's the fastest, do you think you could get Lance back to the castle in time?"

Looking back at the castleship where it was hovering a distance away from the Aestean shields, particle barriers draining, they knew Lance couldn't dock safely.

"I'll get him as far as I can," Keith decided, wasting no time securing Blue and rocketing as close to the castle as he dared.

"Hunk, Pidge, we need to redirect the cannon. The castle can't take much more damage." Shiro led the others, joined by Red shortly after, to push the underside of the massive battleship just enough to avoid both the castle and Aestea.

If the cannon had fired a second earlier, they would have been done for. 

"Paladins, take cover," Allura ordered. "We have just enough power for one more hit."

There was no time now for a breath of relief, they had to move before the castle could land the final blow. Quite literally high-tailing it away, they hovered around where Keith had deposited Blue as they awaited Allura's confirmation.

It was only a moment's pause until a bright blue beam ripped into the gigantic battle cruiser as the five looked on, immensely proud and thoroughly exhausted.

When they arrived back at the castle, Lance felt drowsy. He knew he shouldn't be sleeping, who knew what kind of impact that crash had had on him, but the irrational side of his brain reminded him that his eyelids were heavy and his pilot chair reclined a little, and that sounded like a win-win if he did say so himself.

His soon-to-be-slumber was interrupted by the doors of Blue's cockpit being abruptly opened, and footsteps approaching his chair.

"Dude, I'm trying to sleep," he muttered, but whoever the intruder was, they didn't seem to care. Instead, they took his helmet right off of his head, and he now felt the need to confront whoever had felt so bold as to disrupt his well-deserved rest.

He recognized the red-accented armor immediately.

"Oh, it's you. Come to disturb my good dreams, mullet?"

"Lance, your head is bleeding," Keith said, and he sounded so concerned that Lance kind of believed him.

"Is it?" he asked. Keith nodded. 

"Well," Lance decided, "that's unfortunate."

Keith stared at him for a moment, incredulity plain on his face. Lance didn't understand this, since, as far as he knew, he was absolutely right. Keith took a deep breath, about to say something more, but he was interrupted by another figure appearing in the doorway.

"Is he okay?" That was Hunk, Lance thought, and if he knew that, there was no way he had a head injury. Maybe Keith was wrong, for once. 

"I think he might have a concussion." Speak of the devil. Stupid Keith, always thinking he knew best and considering Lance's wellbeing. 

"Alright Lance, why don't we take you to the med bay?" Hunk suggested, and it sounded like a pretty solid plan to him. 

While Hunk was quick to put Lance's arm around his shoulders and pull him out of his chair, Keith was a bit slower to it, letting Lance settle for himself before putting a tentative hand on his back to steady him as they began walking out of Blue.

"Hey! Keith! This is kind of like when we rescued Shiro, isn't it?" 

"Yep, just like that," Keith agreed, while it sounded a bit like he thought Lance was a child, at least he was being listened to.

"You know, Hunk, Keith pulled my helmet off when he came in. That was hiding the roses. And that really sucks, because he's not suppos-"

"Lance!" Hunk exclaimed, overpowering the conversation as fast as he could. "Why don't you tell me about your family?"

While he couldn't see Keith's face well, he knew the expression had changed when he started to talk about the roses. Oh, _that's_ what Hunk was doing, making sure Lance didn't tell Keith. It was suddenly very important that Hunk knew he understood this.

"Oh I get it, because I'm not supposed to tell Keith-"

"-or anyone else in the castle about this while you have a possible concussion," Hunk interrupted again.

"Yes," Lance agreed. "See, I got that. I understood."

Hunk just sighed and nodded, which was good enough for Lance. They were making fairly steady progress out of the hangar and down the castle halls, but the little jostles here and there were painful ones.

"Hunk, my guy," Lance said, "you're too tall. The...my arm is stretching really far and the armor thing is, like, jabbing _right_ in my side, and it really hurts. Can y-can I just..." The three stopped moving for a moment so Lance could adjust.

Either fortunately or unfortunately, Keith really couldn't decide, Lance was now almost entirely leaning on him, weighing his shoulder down and forcing him to hold Lance's waist a _lot_ more securely.

Lance, on the other hand, was nearly gaping at the fact that Keith was not at all struggling to keep up with extra weight, having only faltered slightly when the shift first happened. 

"How are you doing that?" Lance asked, head resting on their shoulders. "I'm taller than you, dude, you shouldn't be able to do this so easily. See, Hunk, this is what I'm talking about, he's so str-" 

" _Lance_ ," Hunk warned.

"What?" Lance whined, glaring at Hunk. "Can a man finish a sentence around here?"

"You _can_ , but you _shouldn't_ ," Hunk grumbled. 

"Fine. We can talk about something else. So, when Keith came to Blue, he interrupted what I'm sure would have been a really good nap, and he-"

"No," Hunk reminded, "we're not talking about that right now. Tell us about your family."

Lance was silent, dropping the weight of his head onto his shoulder, which just so happened to be next to Keith's head. 

Keith was focused on the sound of their steps on the hard ground, tracking the route they needed to take to get to the med bay, and certainly not paying an ounce of attention to how very close Lance was pressed to him. Not at all.

"Lance?" Hunk asked after not getting a reply. Said paladin brought his head back up, confused.

"Hmm?"

"Your family."

"What about 'em?"

"Can you tell us about them?"

"Oh, 100 percent," Lance scoffed. "So Nadia, Luis's daughter, is seven now, maybe eight? I haven't seen her since last year, but she's only, like, a head shorter than Pidge now. Which is crazy, because she was a baby, like...yesterday, I think."

He continued describing how his sister was trying to get a BFA and how his cousin bought a house and how his nephew had just started kindergarten, speech a little messy at some points, but not dangerously so. They finally got to the medbay where the others were waiting, whereupon Lance complained about having to go into a healing pod, assuring everyone that he was just fine while also not being able to stand up without significant help.

They'd been right when they assumed a concussion, but the crash had also bestowed upon Lance a number of bruises from both the impact and the unfortunately angled armor plates. Two of his ribs were fractured, explaining his struggle with staying upright, making it quite a bit of work to actually maneuver him into the pod.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

No one saw much of Keith during the four days Lance spent healing. On the first day, he'd spent the morning training, only eating a little when it was brought to him. He joined the others for group exercises in the afternoon, though they seemed significantly less energetic without Lance, and had a silent dinner next to an empty chair.

While they'd stopped activities that required all five of them, Keith was adamant in his refusal to spend time with them. Shiro forbade the constant training he craved during the dragging days, so Keith resorted to getting the identical hallways of the castle memorized, moving around in any way he could.

Keith's lowest moment was on the third night, after he'd stolen away to the training room and pushed two levels past his highest. His muscles ached when he _breathed_ , but he just couldn't stop. Shiro came in to tell him to go to bed, but this time it wasn't just a quick reminder and a fatherly expression of disapproval.

"How've you been feeling lately?" Shiro asked, leaning against the wall. 

Keith ended the sequence instead of just responding mid-fight like he usually did. He knew that if he didn't do it himself, Shiro would, and Keith didn't feel like giving him the satisfaction.

"Fine," he muttered, letting his bayard disappear. He paced back and forth to get his heart rate back to a normal level.

"Well, we both know that's not true." Shiro stood up straight, opening the door like he was about to leave. "Walk with me?"

Keith nodded once and followed him out, running a hand though the bangs that had fallen out of his ponytail. His armor was weighing him down a little, not quite meant for leisurely walks.

"You can be honest with me." 

There it was.

"I know," Keith huffed. His chestplate felt too tight.

"So, what is it?" Shiro coaxed.

Keith didn't answer. He couldn't. He knew exactly what he might say, the words ready to leave his lips, but he kept them sealed.

"You don't eat with us, you don't go to sleep until late, even by your standards." Shiro didn't stop there. "You've trained so much I'm starting to think I should let _you_ lead."

"No," Keith negated, faster and more automatic than he wanted. Thankfully, Shiro didn't touch on the subject any farther.

"Either way, something's changed." 

Had he really been so transparent?

"I'll be okay," he said, and it almost felt true. Almost.

Shiro was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

“Are you okay now?” 

And his voice had fallen too far behind.

Keith had let his navigation fall to the wayside. He hadn't realized that Shiro had led him to the pod room, only recognizing the floor pattern once he was too far past the doorway to escape and no longer heard Shiro's footsteps beside his own.

His eyes fell on Lance, face lit by the harsh flouresent lights inside the pod, forcing himself to remember that Lance was truly healing. Something caught in his throat and tightened around his lungs, unfamiliar and...grim.

_You are the reason. It's your fault he's in there, your fault that he was delirious and in pain and couldn't even walk. Concussion, ribs, bruises, this pain is your doing. You can't even protect the one person you've ever lo-_

Keith blinked.

He looked back at Shiro, whose face told him that he hadn't done a very good job of pretending. Before he could even ask what gave him away, Shiro was answering.

"Thought I wouldn't notice?" A question with so much accusatory potential, but Shiro's voice carried none of it. "You haven't taken that jacket off in days, and if you ever do, it's to train in the armor you never train in. I commend your effort to hide it, but I think I know you a little too well.”

Of course Shiro knew. He’d felt it before, too, there were orchids on his arm for a reason. 

Keith was silent again, not sure exactly which follow-up question to ask. He didn't feel strong enough to keep holding Shiro's gaze, so he looked back up at Lance, absorbed in how odd it was to see him without some animated expression.

"He's going to be okay, Keith."

And Keith was too tired, his lungs too constricted, to disagree. 

"I'll go to bed," he conceded, no longer willing to debate or wonder.

"I'll see you in the morning," Shiro answered, and Keith could meet his eyes again, could nod and trudge off to his room without feeling as guilty. If it were anyone else he would have been embarrassed, but, with Shiro, he just felt pathetic. 

He didn't fall asleep until much, _much_ later. He let his thoughts keep him up, let himself believe crazy irrationalities for a moment longer than he should have. Anyone could have misfired like that, and at least he’d recognized the threat, but even repeating it over and over didn't ease his worries. 

_You should have protected him._

And, hours later, if he got up again and sat beside the healing pod for a little while, not staring or speaking or crying, just sitting, no one was there to see it, nor judge him for his hopelessness.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Lance came tumbling out of the pod while Keith was training, two days after Keith had had to face Shiro and be honest. His pained groan from hitting the ground in a daze alerted the nearby Pidge, who called all of the rest of them there.

Shiro heard them shouting and took a detour to the training deck, practically pulling an adrenaline-brimmed Keith out by the vambrace. Once he'd explained what was happening, Keith wasted no time booking it down the memorized halls to the pod room.

Pidge, bless them, was trying to help Lance up, even though he was quite uncoordinated in the moment and hit the ground about three more times before Keith arrived on the scene and helped him up. 

Lance was grumbling about needing to go in a second time after all of that falling when the others arrived, Lance being captured into a hug by Hunk, leaving Keith with empty arms and the tiniest bit of disappointment. 

But Keith's letdown wasn't important, because Lance was alive and well, albeit disoriented, and that was all that mattered. Keith got his satisfaction when they were paired up for group training, happy to feel the rush that a good old-fashioned spar with Lance always gave him.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Now on his sixth or seventh 'lovely to meet you,' Lance politely excused himself from a group of Aesteans who were eager to hear about the inner workings of the lions. He was more than happy to point them over to Pidge, who was standing across the room and chatting excitedly with a few Aestean engineers.

The banquet that they'd been invited to was quite lavish for being impromptu, though the paladins had been invited to many a party after a life-saving battle. Shiro had finally caved, thought that they should take up an offer every now and again. They all knew how taxing the past few days had been. 

If there was any event to agree to be at, it was definitely this one. The Aestean castle's banquet hall was ridiculously luxurious, complete with arching gold ceilings, intricate decor, and accented columns with gigantic bouquets of native flowers. 

They'd gotten through the drawling, gracious speeches of the Aestean monarchs, thanking them for keeping their valuable natural resources far out of Galran reach. 

Now, there were in the final hours of the event. While they waited for the gardens to open, they mingled with curious banquet guests, whose questions seemed to never end.

Lance looked around the room in an attempt to find his fellow paladins. It wasn't too difficult, since the Aesteans' sweeping pastel robes differed from the paladins' dark palettes and Allura and Coran's brightly colored Altean apparel. Coran had been very proud to show them his best imitation of Earth formal wear, which was surprisingly quite accurate. 

Lance didn't think he'd ever forget the look on Pidge's face when they were offered a suit, knowing full well that they would have immediately denied the option of a dress. Though they omitted the black necktie the others wore, Lance was excited to see that they looked very much like themself in a forest-green suit jacket that accented the white dress shirts and black slacks they all wore. Unique to each paladin, Lance's own jacket was navy blue, while Keith's was a deep red, Shiro's dark gray, and Hunk's gold.

Lance hadn't bothered to cover up the roses on his neck. It was partially out of laziness, but so far no one had asked him about it besides the Aesteans, and he didn't mind that. Both Shiro and Hunk had thrown him concerned glances, but he'd just shot a smile back, refusing to explain from halfway across the room. 

Quite a few people were gathered around where Shiro sat at one of the tables and where Allura and Coran stood by the center of the room. 

Pidge had been chattering with scientists and engineers for nearly the entire time, having to stop every few seconds in their frenzy to push their glasses back up the bridge of their nose. 

Hunk and Lance had stuck to the same corner of the room, telling stories and recounting a more dramatized version of the battle.

Keith had been keeping to himself the best he could in the middle of the hundreds of curious aliens, more than impatient to get to the reception in the castle gardens, where he might find a quiet space. 

While Lance was certainly one for big settings, he knew Keith wasn't, especially places where there would be heaps of people trying to talk to him. No matter how nice the sentiment, it could be draining to talk for so long, especially when one could only respond to 'thank you for saving our lives’ in so many different ways.

Lance managed to pass the attention off to Hunk and slip out of the crowd as soon as he'd seen that Keith's current audience was saying their goodbyes. It took him a moment to cross the spacious room, but he was able to pull Keith aside and hopefully relieve him of interviews for the time being.

"You as tired as I am?" Lance asked, trying to sound casual.

Keith shrugged. “Only a little. I'd rather be away from it, but it's definitely not the worst."

"Right, right," he nodded. Well, there went his conversation piece. 

Prompted by the barely-too-long moment of silence, Keith's gaze shifted to Lance's collar. 

"Do you think you'll ever tell them?"

Lance looked back up. “Who?"

"Y'know..." Keith motioned to his neck. 

"Oh." He let out a sigh. "I've been thinking about it."

It wasn't a lie. He could no longer comfortably pull his jacket sleeves down to cover the roses, since they'd latched onto the very first bend of his thumbs. 

A blossom had made its way onto his face, too, barely reaching the farthest edge of his cheekbone. It hadn't bloomed fully like the ones on his arms, but it no doubt would follow suit in a matter of days, and the thought terrified him.

"Do you even know what you'd do if it just...never stops?"

Lance looked at the ground. "I really don't. I'm kind of scared to find out, honestly. You hear about cases like that, but I don't know."

"Well if you've been able to stay in love without seeing them this whole time...they must be important enough to confess," Keith mused, and Lance had to stop himself from audibly scoffing. Not seeing them this whole time. Yeah, sure, that's what it was.

"Wouldn't really say that's the roadblock," he replied sheepishly. 

It hurt. It hurt a lot. It burned him, made the red petals press into his skin, the proximity making it all so exquisitely painful. The questions, the staring, how blissfully ignorant Keith was. 

"No?" Keith asked, and Lance shook his head.

"It's just not getting any better, no matter what I do. I can still keep a level head when we fight, you don't have to worry abo—“

"Lance," Keith interrupted. "I'm not worried about your performance as a paladin. This entire time, you haven't let it distract you. You don't need to prove that you're focused."

Lance raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? I thought...don't you care about that?"

"I do. But you're still a person, and you're under a lot of stress." He shrugged. “Besides, I don’t want it to feel like I’m holding you to some standard.”

Lance was standing straighter now, starting to regret going to check on Keith. It was all just a little too much. He didn't expect Keith to care so much. For once, he couldn't deal with the attention.

"I mean, I kind of signed up for this, right?" he bluffed. "Life of a paladin? I'm gonna be okay."

"Lance," Keith insisted, but Lance was already becoming defensive.

"What?" he asked, a bit too harshly. Instead of recoiling like Lance thought he would, Keith stood his ground.

"You've been saying that a lot lately, and I'm not really believing it anymore."

Lance just shrugged. "Then I don't know what to tell you." He looked out at the rest of the room and saw people starting to file out. "I think we're heading out."

Keith exhaled with annoyance, but Lance paid it no mind. He just nodded once and excused himself to join the crowd filtering out into the gardens. 

This was no longer okay, no longer some casual concern of Keith's. Lance tried his best to focus on the doorway he was heading for but he just couldn't stop thinking; Keith was interested and sympathetic and he _cared_. 

Even when the roses were clinging to his throat, he could at least pretend that Keith hated him, that they were barely friends and he was only useful to Keith as a sparring partner. But now, Keith was so persistently compassionate and offering to be a confidant and Lance couldn't do it anymore.

If he had to face those stupid, beautiful eyes again, that stupid voice that always asked the questions that made Lance want to let the truth overflow, he'd do just that. If he had to pretend for one second longer that he wasn't so deeply in love he could bubble over with the feeling, he'd break down. He couldn't go on any longer. 

In his haste, Lance wasn't paying attention to the scene in front of him, forcing him into a double-take when he made it out of the giant doors.

The gardens were breathtaking.

Aestea's twin moons shone silver in the dark night sky, a shade or two more purple than Earth's deep blue. Trees akin to weeping willows lined the paved paths, dripping in gold lanterns, interrupted every now and then by sweeping gold archways with benches nestled beneath them. Flowers of every color dotted bushes and displays in every free space of the greenery, spectacular blossoms that Lance had never seen before.

The guests flooded into the gardens, grouping together on side paths and in the grand plaza lying in the center. It was enchanting and vibrant, the lanterns burning and the crowd humming. Couples danced in the plaza; Lance could see Allura's brilliant blush-colored skirt flare as she was twirled, and the place just seemed so alive. 

Aesteans played music on instruments that Lance didn't recognize, but immediately wanted to learn to play, their dulcet notes carrying over the excited chatter. While Pidge had headed straight for the large greenhouses near the garden's edge, Hunk and Shiro were dispersed among the crowd of dancers. 

It was too good to be true. Something had aligned to create this night, something was meant to happen here. A moment belonged here, and Lance was afraid he knew just what it was.

Once he'd regained the ability to do anything but outwardly gape, he made his descent down the fanned golden staircase, down the central path and towards the plaza. 

"Lance!" Hunk's voice caught his attention. 

"Hey!" he called back, making his way around the crowd of dancers to where Hunk was standing, near a little station of various colorful drinks in oddly-shaped glasses.

"What's got you so excited?" Hunk asked.

"It's just a nice night," he shrugged, looking out at the crowd. Then he added, in as casual a tone as he could, "Also I think I'm gonna confess to Keith."

Hunk nearly choked. "Wh-for real?"

"Well," Lance mused, "it's kind of the perfect setting, isn't it? No incoming threats, no battle announcements to interrupt us, and a dance floor to get back to if it fails. Also, I just talked to him a couple minutes ago and I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”

Okay. He just admitted out loud that he was going to do this tonight. And now, with Hunk as his witness, he had to hold himself to it. 

"Little liquid courage?" Hunk asked, offering a thin flute of a pinkish-purple colored liquid from the table. 

Lance laughed a bit awkwardly, "Yeah, I was hoping that's what this was." He took a long drink, a bit too trusting on his part, but found it was a risk worth taking. 

The drink tasted like it should've been from Earth, but had some unfamiliar quality that made it tangy, and he finished it off quickly before an Aestean in a black uniform took the empty glass from him. 

"Do you know where he went?" Lance asked, scanning the areas close to the plaza. 

"Didn't see," Hunk shrugged. "You're going to tell me how it goes, right?" 

"Oh, you'll be the first to know," he assured.

“You got this, man.” Hunk pat him on the shoulder. 

Lance wished he could have as much optimism. He settled on a quick 'Thanks' and a deep breath, setting off to find whatever corner Keith had stowed away to. 

Everything seemed so ethereal once he was among the lively grove, walking a little too quickly in his excitement to discover more of the paths surrounding the plaza. 

While he'd had a goal in mind, the haziness of the night paired with the heavenly gardens distracted him. He followed the winding paths to a smaller grove, nearing the sides of the castle. It was as well lit as the rest, though farther away from the crowds, practically deserted.

Consequently, that's where Lance found Keith. 

Keith hadn't heard him approaching, nor was he looking in Lance's direction. Lance was revved up and ready to get it over with, but something halted him as soon as he saw Keith. 

Time was supposed to freeze when a movie character was looking at something beautiful, string music would play in the background and everything would be in slow motion. But this, this wasn't a movie. 

Sure, Lance stood staring like a camera was pointed right at his blinking blue eyes, but Keith was pulling his hair out of the little red ribbon he'd used to tie it back in real time. 

By some miracle, Lance was able to come back to reality by the time Keith had finished re-tying the bow. He summoned up a little bit of spirit from the minutes before, where he'd been astounded by the gardens, remembered what he'd set out to do. He'd successfully kept up a bravado for a long time now, what was a few more minutes? 

And so he started again, one foot in front of the other, quick and anxious and determined.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

"Keith!" 

Someone was calling his name. The voice was familiar, but in too short a burst to identify. Keith looked up, on high alert, but relaxed a little once he recognized Lance. But Lance was walking quickly, and clearly making a beeline to Keith. 

"Hey, is there something wrong?" he asked as soon as Lance was close enough. 

Lance stopped abruptly when he reached the bench, a little out of breath. "No. I'm good. But I have to say this now, okay?" 

"Wait, what?" Keith was confused, but Lance was still trying to talk and recover at the same time. Keith moved to the side, gesturing for Lance to sit, which he did. 

"Alright," Keith began as soon as Lance had regulated his breathing. "So what did you have to tell me?"

Lance ran a hand through his hair. "You know the, um, you know the-" He pushed up his sleeve so Keith could see the roses, even though they were very visible on his neck. "You know these, yeah?"

"I do," Keith agreed. 

"You said I should confess. And I didn't think I could do that. But it's been...it's been long enough." 

He could tell that Lance was doing his best to speak with confidence, but he still seemed a little hesitant. 

"So I know that I'm going to hate myself later for this, but I don't care right now. Do the scary thing first and get scared afterwards, right?"

Keith was lost, and Lance seemed to notice. 

He sighed, trying to make a definitive statement. "I'm just going to tell you, okay? This is going to ruin everything if it doesn't work out and you'll realize what all of this means, but it'll be worth it."

"Lance, I don't know what you're talking about," Keith insisted, but Lance wasn't listening. 

"It's you. Okay? It's you. This," he gestured to his arm, "all of this," he touched his neck, "is you. _For_ you, I mean. I'm...I think I'm in love with you." 

_Absolutely not_ , Keith thought. _Run, RUN_. Whatever Lance thought was not true, this was not happening and it was not real. The roses that covered so much of Lance's skin, that he'd said he'd had for _years_ , that were still growing, even now. Those couldn't be his, they just couldn't. 

"I mean," Lance continued, "obviously, I don't just _think_ that; if I wasn't sure then all of this wouldn't be happening, but you know."

For _Keith_ , for _him_ , they just couldn't be. Impossible, impossible to think that all of this time Keith had spent his restless nights pitying the person on the other end of the line, never knowing how much Lance loved them. Feeling sorry, feeling fucking _sorry_ that they'd never find out.

Lance was still talking, but Keith didn't hear a word of it. "You don't have to...uh, say anything if you don't want to, I get it. But now that I'm admitting it," he said with false positivity, "I can start moving past and everything will be fine again." 

Keith had not done something to deserve this. He had not lived a saint's life, didn't deserve his secret hopes and dreams to be laid out on a fucking platter for him. This had to be some sort of a nightmare. Good things like this shouldn't be happening to him. 

"I'll...I guess I'll just let you...think." Lance started to get up, false confidence in his voice but regret on his face. 

No. 

Maybe Keith had one foot in a world-shaking realization, but he'd be damned if he let Lance just leave. He grabbed Lance's wrist, not knowing what else to do. Lance turned back, sat down on the bench when Keith pulled him. 

Lance's impulsiveness must have been inspiring him, because otherwise Keith didn't know what made him hold his breath, let go of Lance's arm, and push up his own sleeve. 

"Holy shit," Lance breathed. 

Beautifully palleted against pale skin and wine-red fabric, a web of stunning _blue hydrangeas_. 

It wasn't the bundled groups of several blossoms, it was an intricate pattern of the tiny flowers all across his forearm. And every single one of them blue. 

And now it was Lance that knew this couldn't be his. _Lance_ was the flirt, the loverboy, the caretaker of bouquets upon bouquets. If anyone had ever grown flowers for him, they hadn't told him, and with all the gossip spread around his various schools, he was sure he would have heard about it. He was the lover, not the loved. 

"It really shouldn't be this much for just a few weeks, but..."

"Wh- _weeks_?!" Lance prayed Keith wouldn't judge him for impulsively grabbing Keith's forearm to run a thumb over the blue petals. "You're serious?" 

Keith had to take a second to come up with a response, suddenly remembering how Allura had done the same to Lance when she saw his. "I-yeah. I am."

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, releasing Keith's arm. "I just didn't think you'd ever..." He gestured into empty air, then looked back up at Keith.

He must have looked pretty hopeless, because all Keith could come up with was a soft exhale.

"Lance..."

No one had ever said his name like that. Like it was something they just couldn't wait to tell him, no matter how breathless they were. Like it was the most precious thought they'd ever held in their head. Like it meant something, like _he_ meant something.

He never wanted anyone to say it again if it wasn't like that. 

There was only one thing he _did_ want, and he nearly forgot to ask.

"Keith?" It was one of the only few words he could remember.

Keith nodded once, subtly.

"Can I kiss you?"

Keith nodded again, clear and deliberate, and it didn't take another second before his lips were on Lance's. And while he'd said yes, Keith was not at all prepared to learn that Lance kissed like it might be his last. 

Somehow he'd still caught Keith off guard, surprised him like he always did, consuming every one of Keith's senses _just_ like Keith wanted him to.

It was their own kind of perfect, a feeling that was all their own, and he wondered how he'd lived all his life without it. 

Lance led without realizing it, immediately one hand was at Keith's waist and the other at the back of his neck, and Keith was more than happy to follow. 

Lance was nervous, even with the permission, but damn him if he'd let it show. But when he felt tentative hands cupping his face, it was the last little response he needed. 

Everything he'd expected it to be was blown out the window, which he'd come to know was typical when it came to Keith. It wasn't electric and raw like he thought it might be, but it quelled a long-lasting ache that he'd nearly forgotten was there. 

It made him want to take a deep breath just to come to his senses again, though there was no way in hell he'd be quitting this for a meaningless breath, when he'd only be willingly drawn back after the matter. 

When they finally got around to pulling away, it took Keith a few seconds to realize he wasn't dreaming. It didn't help in the slightest that Lance looked like everything he didn't know he wanted, his navy jacket was harmonizing with the scarlet of the roses clinging to his neck and the bronze tones in his complexion. 

He _gleamed_ under the lanterns, perfectly in focus in front of the gold light, a half-smile playing on his face. He looked like a symphony sounded. The world was humming around him still, everything was in a golden haze. 

"I don't even know what to say anymore." Lance said what Keith couldn't quite articulate.

Keith laughed. He could still taste a ghosting sweet flavor, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. "Did you have something to drink?"

Lance looked sheepish. "I...might've. Why?"

"Well, I was just thinking, when we-" He stopped short. "Wait, are you...?" 

Oh god. Keith thought he was only doing this because he was drunk. 

"No, no, definitely not! I mean, like, a little for courage, but I have a clear head," he assured. 

"Oh," Keith nodded, noticeably more calm. 

"I'm not kidding about these either," he continued, gesturing toward the roses on his arm. "I really do love you, I promise."

Keith's eyes widened and his lips parted involuntarily, and Lance realized then what he'd said.

_Backpedal, backpedal, back it up right now._

"I mean, if you're alright with me saying that."

"No, yeah, that's..." he swallowed, "...good." He still couldn't manage to look at Lance, blush appearing on the bridge of his nose. 

"We're kind of pathetic aren't we?" Lance admitted, taking a leap of faith and clasping his hand gently in Keith's.

Keith looked at their hands together approvingly, then up at Lance with the softest smile known to man. "Something like that."

And they looked on.

On to the golden lanterns lilting breezily in the trees, on to pastel robes and dark, crisp suits, on to the trees and the lined pathways lying in a beautiful web between the weeping branches and vibrant flowers.

On to the lively crowd in the plaza and the stringed instruments and the smooth melodies. 

Keith could see Lance staring there, especially fond. He could picture them there, dancing among the others and smiling just as bright, even if a tiny voice in the back of his head told him he could never work up the courage. 

He just had to come out and say it, or he'd never get the chance. There would never be another perfect night like this, not in royal gardens at least. 

"Do you want to go?"

Lance brought his attention back to Keith. 

"What?" Lance asked, and Keith motioned to the plaza. 

"Oh. A little, yeah," he admitted. "But I don't mind staying with you."

"We should go," Keith said with determination.

Lance shook his head. "No, not if you don't want to."

"I do," Keith insisted, muting the irrational thoughts in his head. "I'm not any good at dancing, but I do."

"Then we can wait for a slow song," Lance offered.

They stood and began the walk down the maze of paths that led to the grand plaza, the spirited music slowing to a smooth legato as they got closer, just their luck. 

Once they were at the circle's edge, a frightening wave shot down Keith's spine, knowing they were about to have quite a bit of attention drawn to them. The feeling only lasted a second, because then Lance was in front of him again.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, holding out his hand for Keith to take. 

"Isn't that what we came over here for?" Keith tilted his head.

Lance rolled his eyes with an adoring smile.

"Indulge me."

And so, Keith took his hand and let Lance lead him into the crowd, let him intertwine their fingers once more, let Lance pull him flush, keeping their hands clasped like they'd waltz, but simply swaying. 

_Oh._

Lance's free hand was now on his waist, guiding Keith's to rest on top of it, and he was grateful Lance was leading. If anything, he was busy turning over those past minutes; it wasn't just a stupid crush. It wasn't just a few lousy petals, nevermind that they were his first ones. 

It hadn't ended in a falling out and a gentle fade. It burned bright but didn't die out.

Something was nagging at Keith, telling him how dangerous it was to get so close, how the lovely little moment they were sharing would soon end. But for once, it wasn't nearly as important as the feeling of being slowly, gently guided along, underscored by sweet string music and illuminated in gold. 

Looking around the edges of the crowd, Lance caught Hunk's eye, who was standing across the circle with an excited expression, mouthing something he couldn't decipher. Lance just nodded and sighed, attention settling back to Keith. 

He knew eyes were on them, he _knew_ no one was going to leave him alone after this, especially this planet full of people who were currently witnessing two paladins that had just saved their entire planet slowdance together. 

Keith was facing to the side, head tucked under Lance's chin, grateful, for once, that Lance was taller than him. He looked out and to see an uncontrollably smiling Shiro looking like he'd cry any second. Keith rolled his eyes and looked away, because if Shiro started crying, it was all over. 

Lance felt almost odd; he wasn’t nearly as sentimental or reflective as he thought he’d be. He wasn’t thinking about how he always knew it would end like this, with them finally together.

He couldn't say that, from start to finish, it had been Keith. That secretly, he'd always known it'd be Keith. That, as soon as he saw him, he knew that Keith was the only one, because he didn’t.

At the time, he was a young, malleable cadet who fell in love more frequently than anyone he'd ever known, who'd collectively had more flowers on his arms than his parents, most kids he'd met, and even some adults. 

So no, he hadn't always known it would be Keith. Couldn't say that from the beginning it was Keith, because there'd been plenty of others before. 

And he most definitely didn't know that Keith would feel like the only one that mattered. Didn't think he would ever even get this far, but he did.

It was over, but it wasn't. It was an end, but a continuation, too. He could stop contemplating and hiding and feeling sorry for himself, he could put an end to the intrusive thoughts and constant doubts, at least for now. 

He had a new focus. Well, an old, well-loved focus, but now a better plan of action. He was free to do what he was doing now, holding Keith close and smiling fondly and catching proud gazes (and one eyeroll from the suddenly appearing Pidge). 

"Think they had a bet going?" he murmured to Keith, who grinned against his shoulder.

"Wouldn't put it past them," Keith agreed.

"Who do you think won?"

"Shiro," Keith said immediately. "Told me a few days ago that he figured it out, and I think he expected one of us to crack once you got out of the pod. Namely, me."

Lance nearly pulled back to face Keith before remembering he wouldn't compromise this position for anything. 

"Wait, you told Shiro before you told me?" 

"Hasn't Hunk known for a while longer than I have?" Keith countered.

 _Three years_ , Lance wanted to clarify, _He's known for three years down to the very first day_ , but that was for a different time. 

He sputtered for a moment before firmly responding, "I have the right to remain silent."

"That's what I thought," Keith said, and the little smile he held at his own win was so endearing that he really should have seen the kiss Lance pressed against his forehead coming. 

It shouldn't have been this perfect, really. Lance never expected to get here. The world was finally telling him, _it's over, it's the happy ending you thought would never come, the one you thought you didn't deserve_. The searching for answers and shame in his feelings and worrying about the future and longing to just confess and the tension and aching and hurting, it was all over. 

Now, he could just love. Love and _be_ loved. Bloom sweetly in tandem, build a garden _together_. Never worry about a fade and a falling out, because they were a constant.

And that was true. 

It would always be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you didn't know, the excerpt from last chapter is from a poem called blue hydrangea, which was my little teaser!
> 
> just want to say a quick props to Killer_Thorn who hypothesized that Keith’s Galra biology was interfering with the flowers, and while he just wasn’t in love yet, that’s an awesome idea, and i want to give them some credit for it!!!
> 
> special thanks to rosedvst for writing WTICTYTTS and to Greekgeekofmlp for writing GWSP, both of which are fics that use aus like this one, and both of which you should check out because they’re amazing!
> 
> don't ask about the sequel she's fragile jrhgkrjh
> 
> thank you so much for all the support! i couldn't have done this without you :) <3333

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Games We Shouldn't Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513509) by [Greekgeekofmlp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greekgeekofmlp/pseuds/Greekgeekofmlp)




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